


the chain (runnin' through the shadows)

by soundandfury (supercellbreath)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Space, Crystals, Domestic Fluff, Dumb Domestic Chinguline, Established Relationship, Four Idiots In Love On A Spaceship, M/M, Magitech, Multi, None Of These Assholes Ever Stop Talking, Physical Disability, Polyamory, Praise Kink, Sci-Fi Jargon, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-02-11 04:58:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12927966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supercellbreath/pseuds/soundandfury
Summary: In the vast, cold blackness of space, it’s good to have people you love at your side. The crew of the Syren know this well.





	the chain (runnin' through the shadows)

**Author's Note:**

> fic title taken from the chain by fleetwood mac. written for prompt #228 of the 2017 round of exonaut.
> 
> [lies down] hoooooly fucking shit this fic drained the SOUL out of me but god knows I Did It For The OT4....it's basically nothing but dumb mindless domestic fluff and shenanigans and some sex??? there was a semblance of plot but god knows i threw it all out the window. also writing sex with all members of an ot4 is the worst i would much appreciate never repeating the experience there are Too Many Limbs. many regrets were had.
> 
> thanks to G, A and E for sitting down and reading through my mess and reassuring me that It Was Indeed, Decent Enough To Publish!! you are all absolute STARS i love you all  (´ ꒳ ` ✿)
> 
> to the mods, YOU ARE SUCH GLITTERING LITTLE NOVAE HONESTLY WE ALL LOVE YOU?!?!? tHANk you for putting up w my late ass and all of us other late asses and all the amazing graphics and love and time and feedback and just the EFFORT you've poured into making this fest Out Of This World. stan mod jupiter and mercury everyone they're the greatest ☆☆☆
> 
> to my prompter, uhhhh i'm not really sure this is what you were imagining but it's a lot of ot4 and a lot of gross kissing and ridiculous banter so i hope you enjoy!!
> 
> and to anyone picking up this fic, °•☆~DISCLAIMER~☆•°: Science Contained Within Is Highly Inaccurate Mostly Because Everything Runs On Crystals And Magic. i hope you enjoy, and strap yourselves in for 16k of chinguline.....IN SPACE!! ☆☆☆

 

“Soo?” Jongdae mumbles, voice rough with sleep, blinking blearily as the figure pads from the doorway across the rugs near soundlessly. “What’s up?”

“Console. Drifted off. Nightmare,” the witch replies shortly, softly, coming to a rest at the edge of the king-sized bed, something hesitant in the dull thud of his footsteps. The shadows shiver around his bare feet, and his eyes glow in the darkness with something unearthly, but the way his teeth dig into his lower lip and his fingers toy with the hem of his oversized top - that’s utterly human. “And it’s. Cold. Can I -”

“Of course,” Jongdae soothes, flashing a sleepy smile that goes almost unseen in the dimness of the room. He digs a gentle elbow in Baekhyun’s side, simultaneously maneuvering his own body to carefully push Chanyeol to the side a little and pulling the thick blankets aside. “Hey. Furry One. Move the tails, ‘Soo’s joining us.”

“Mmnn,” Baekhyun groans, jaw stretching around a yawn and canines glinting in the faint light as he stirs, tails shifting on autopilot from where they were curled around Jongdae and Chanyeol to expose more room on the mattress in between Jongdae and him. Kyungsoo crawls carefully onto the bed, squeezing into the space between them, the sheets warm, Baekhyun’s tails falling back down to enfold him into a warm fluffy embrace and Jongdae tugging the blankets back up to tuck Kyungsoo in, cocoon-like.

“Horrorterrors eatin’ at you again?” Jongdae speaks softly, brows knitting together in worry. The sheets rustle as he inches closer, drawing Kyungsoo into his arms. The patches of scale on his arms are smooth, but warmed by the flesh underneath. Behind him, Chanyeol makes an incoherent low dream-muddled sound, shifting closer towards the center, chasing the warmth of all their bodies tangled together.

“When are they not,” Kyungsoo mutters, tucking his head underneath Jongdae’s chin. The siren hums commiseratingly, one hand stroking idle circles into his back. “Got prophetic visions of doom and destruction threatening the cosmos, as per usual.”

“I dunno ‘bout you,” Baekhyun slurs, squirming closer and burying his face into the back of Kyungsoo’s neck, warm breath puffing over their witchy boyfriend’s bare skin. “But that seems like it’s worse than your standard precog jitters, don’t you?”

“Not just _precog jitters_ ,” Kyungsoo mumbles. Jongdae hushes the both of them with a low hiss, eyes glinting.

“You’re gonna wake up Yeollie if you keep bickerin’. You know he hasn’t slept since Altair’as ‘cause he’s been navigating.”

“Sorry, ‘Dae,” Baekhyun whispers sheepishly. Kyungsoo nods mutely in assent.

“But. ‘Nyways. I dunno ‘bout what you’re seein’ right now,” Baekhyun breathes softly, reaches over to drape one arm over Kyungsoo’s waist, cranes his head to press a tender kiss to bare skin. “But I don’t see any dark tentacle Outer Gods on this ship. You don’t gotta worry bout your relatives here. S’ just us, and the ship, and the stars. You can rest easy. So _sleep_.”

The shutters over the porthole above the bed allow for faint, dim starlight to creep through, mixing with the soft bluish glow of the lamp on the bedside table. All around them, the walls and the hull hum with energy, circuits alive with electricity, the crystal core at the heart of the Syren singing strong and hale and joyous. Under the sheets, lying tangled together warm and drowsy with the crew he’s come to love, the one safe haven where his blood cannot reach him, Kyungsoo drifts off into serene, dreamless sleep.

 

-

 

“So what’ve we got on our hands this sol?”

The holopanels on the walls give their little mess area the backdrop of a pastel flame-toned sunrise over fields of Terran grains, casting the whole room in licks of orange and gold. Jongdae’s scales glitter like gems, emerald against the fawn of his skin and the silver of his scars as he stretches out an arm to grab his mug of caphé from Chanyeol’s hands with a wordless smile of thanks.

“Well,” Kyungsoo says, low and sleep-husky but clear, sipping his tea, “It feels like a derelict ship. I picked up the vibes yesterday, tried to Sight it - it’s just sitting out past the edge of the nebula, floating in empty space. Doesn’t look like anyone’s been on it for...years, probably. No surprise, being this far out from civilised space.”

“According to coordinates, it shouldn’t take us more than one well-timed jump to get the--ere,” Chanyeol adds, giving a jaw-cracking yawn as he cradles his mug of viverridacaphé to warm up his hands, his canines glinting in the golden glow, “mm, and with the last job, we’ve got more than enough to get us there and back and then some. It’s worth the trip out. Dae, the ship’s in shape enough to take us, right?”

“Yep,” Jongdae chirps, grinning, his voice a tri-toned harmony for a second before he reins in his vocal cords. “Finally replaced that crystal ‘n got that honey-silver filler, so the runeveins are all patched up ‘n she’s raring to go. We could use this as a test run to check the hyperdrive, actually.”

“You guys’re butterin’ me up real good this morning,” Baekhyun mumbles, side-eyeing his boyfriends, the crimson of his hair burning warm in the light as he gives them discerning looks, furry ears up in the air. “What’s the cons.”

“Just one. It’s near a Rift,” Kyungsoo says, and Baekhyun nearly chokes on his caphé. Chanyeol pats his back sympathetically as he wheezes.

“Not the best thing to start off the sol with,” Jongdae says, sheepish.

“You all _remember_ the last time we went near a Rift, right?” Baekhyun deadpans once he’s caught his breath, fox ears flicking back and forth in agitation. “Yeol losing control of his shift, Soo going into a Trance for hours, the ship nearly crashing because the crystals went haywire on us and Dae getting cryst shards stuck in his back from keeping Soo clear of the literal _explosion_ that happened?!”

“We were in a bad spot mentally and the Rift didn’t help,” Kyungsoo responds calmly, “You remember how shit that week was for us. None of that helped with keeping a lid on our magic, especially not with me. But that’s all behind us, so I don’t think we’ll find ourselves exploding anytime soon.”

“You’re the one with the most to lose here and _you’re_ the one _gunning_ for this-” Baekhyun groans. “Kyungsoo, you _know_ what Rifts _do_ to you, you wanna go through all that junk again?!” Jongdae and Chanyeol, watching from their chairs, shoot each other identical looks and take quick drags of their caphé in unison.

“Worth the risk,” Kyungsoo reiterates, taking another sip of his tea, eyes hooded and aglow with octane hues, lashes brushing over his freckles with each blink. “I’m not going to spend my entire life veering away from the void just because it’s where my shitty ancestors like to hang out. Call this exposure therapy.”

The gumiho presses a palm to his face in disbelief, ears flattening back and blending back into his crimson hair. “You looked so _sensible_ when we kidnapped you,” Baekhyun whines, pitch rising, tails writhing and fluffing up behind him. “ _No_ . Nonono. There is no way I am letting this ship and the rest of you anywhere _near_ a Rift. _No_ . No way. _Nooooo-_ ”

 

-

 

”Shifting into hyperdrive, fins locked back, ready to jump the Gate,” Chanyeol says, cheery as usual, slouched in the pilot’s chair where he belongs. “We’re waitin’ on you, captain.”

Jongdae cackles from his chair, strapped in by the blaster controls. Kyungsoo hums his own assent, likewise in his own seat by the monitors. Someone (probably Chanyeol) has taken control of the auxiliary jack, and the dulcet tones of Chaka Khan are crackling over the speakers to mix with the steady purr of the engine, background music to the glittering panorama of stars laid out before them, just beyond the spaceglass.

Baekhyun exhales through his nose in a sharp sigh, groaning. His hand rests over the drive, clawed fingers curling around the handle tight. He’s about to take them all near something that could mean Real Bad Times for their whole ship. Because his goddamn boyfriends bullied him into it. His ragtag, scrap-piece, stupid reckless asshole lovers, his crew.

God, he fucking loves them.

“Alright, let’s get goin’!” he calls out, and pulls the lever.

“Allons-y!” Jongdae whoops, (fuckin’ Whovian purist, Baekhyun thinks fondly, not for the first time) as the crystals sing to life, an all-encompassing symphony flaring and roaring and resonating through the circuits and the metal, sparks blinking alight and the runic script imbedded into the panels glowing gold with their activation. The Syren jerks forward, shuddering for a second, before light itself warps around the ship, time and space rippling and bleeding away in dizzying streaks and streams of technicolour hues over the glass.

No matter how many times they do this, Baekhyun never quite gets used to Gate jumps - never gets accustomed to the sense of being torn from one point in space to another, to the magic that takes them there. You can’t go faster than light without mystical assistance, and while it’s convenient, _boy_ does it make his skin feel out of place. He can hear his own pulse unnaturally loud even over the cacophonous din of the hyperdrive and the music, can feel every artery and vein quiver as his blood rushes through and fights to keep his heart going, his fingers clamped tight around the armrest of his seat, white-knuckled, claws digging into the leather as the engine roars and they rip  -   claw   -    _tear_ through the fabric of spacetime -

The metal groans, and the symphony sputters to a halt, and suddenly all the stars and nebulae are new. Baekhyun can taste blood on his tongue. Nine hells, he’s bitten through his cheek again.

“Coordinates are picture-perfect,” Chanyeol chirps, and when Baekhyun looks over he’s got the widest grin splashed across his face, his eyes glowing with the reflected light off the myriad screens. “Exactly from Point A to Point B, barely a hair out of place, not even a hint of splinch. Think we can safely call the hyperdrive repairs a success, then, ‘Dae!”

“Don’t flatter me,” Jongdae laughs, rolling his eyes, his words belied by the grin stretched wide across his face and the melodious tones of pride laid under his voice. “Keep your eyes on the prize, Mr. Navigator.”

“Stop acting like you aren’t preening, Jongdae,” Kyungsoo says, amused. “The derelict’s right up ahead, boys, we can get moving any time now.”

“Give Baek a second,” Chanyeol chides, looking over, brows knotting together, nostrils flaring slightly. “I can smell blood-?”  
  
“Bit my cheek,” Baekhyun says, shaking his head, straightening his legs out and stretching his arms to try and get the lingering sensation to dissipate. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry. Your leg givin’ you any trouble?”  
  
“Kinda achy but it’s about normal.” Chanyeol hums, tapping his right knee, the soft thunk of metal being struck muffled by the fabric of his pants. reaching over and tapping a few buttons on his dash. Around them, the song stutters on a half-step and switches, a new track kicking in and the soothing synths of some old 22nd century R&B artist washing over the cockpit. “I’m ready as ever. Course set for derelict, shall we get going?"  
  
“This is still a bad idea," Baekhyun mutters, but shifts the gears to bring them rocketing forwards anyways.

 

-

 

Despite its perilous location, the derelict ship isn’t exactly the most imposing of structures, especially compared to those they’ve tackled and scavenged in the past. It’s an average size for its kind and definitely of an older make, sleek and streamlined and cetacean in form, but covered in scratches and chip marks. The pink symbols and logos emblazoned across the sides come into view clearly legible under the glare of their headlights as the Syren swoops by them, marking it as private property belonging to the Soo-Man Corporation.

“No surprise this boy wasn’t tracked back down then,” Chanyeol mutters. Baekhyun snorts in agreement as the ship slows into a smooth, quick stop, right by where the docking bay entrance is marked. The Soo-Man Corporation went down in flames years ago, brought low by higher-up corruption and buffeted by the unfortunate shifting winds of economy and luck until it finally crumbled inwards on itself. And with the location of this particular wreck - sitting pretty within the range of a Rift, where any outbound signals would be jammed by Other Realm energies or swallowed up into the gaping maw of a literal gate into the void - it’s no fucking wonder no-one came to collect it.

“All the better for us,” Baekhyun says, standing up, stretching his limbs out to feel the crick-crack of his joints sliding back in proper place, flexing his tails. “I’ll take point on the walk. Anyone else?”

“Someone’s got to make sure you don’t get your starburnt ass destroyed by a magic trap,” Kyungsoo says, dryly, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“And someone’s gotta come watch both your backs and make sure you don’t get jumped,” Chanyeol pipes up, getting up out of his seat and rising to his full height, just to lord his height over his smaller crewmates a little more and bringing varying degrees of exasperation from the rest of them.

“I’ll stay back and guard Syren then,” Jongdae says, tapping his screen, the track blasting from the speakers skittering to an abrupt halt and switching over into a cool, synth-laden intro as an array of holoscreens blink to life in front of him. He flexes his arms, tilts his neck, sparks crackling alive in the spaces between his fingers. “Same as usual. Go suit up, boys, I’ll fizz the gates so we can dock.”

Kyungsoo and Chanyeol nod quickly, both ambling out the door, the witch slowing his steps so that the taller can catch up, shoulders bumping together as they leave. Baekhyun lingers a little longer, coming over to stand by Jongdae’s chair, leaning a little against his shoulder. The sight Jongdae makes when he’s working his magic never fails to mesmerize - strong fingers dancing over shimmering holoscreens, the wild playful light of his magic coursing under and over his scale-patched skin in shivering sizzling rivulets, dark strands of hair rising on end with static.

(Jongdae on his own, genius spaceship mechanic and brilliant razor-sharp siren, is already a force to be reckoned with, but with his lightning magic in the mix? He’s a damn _monster_. Every day Baekhyun sends thanks to the heavens that Jongdae didn’t just fry him and Chanyeol to a crisp the first time they met.)

“What’re you wasting time here for?” Jongdae chides gently, lightning-lit eyes flicking from his screens to meet Baekhyun’s for a few instants, curving up into half-moons before he glances back to his work. “Trying to stall as long as possible? Our big bad captain, draggin’ his heels, tails between his legs?”

“I stay behind to try and show you some lovin’ and this is the thanks I get,” Baekhyun pouts. Jongdae laughs softly, one hand twisting a little and his eyes narrowing at shapes and figures in some other plane Baekhyun can’t see, fingers tracing out invisible glyphs over the interface.

“I’m working, honey,” Jongdae simpers, voice saccharine and bent around a faux Outer-Rim drawl, sliding a look over at Baekhyun and batting his lashes, and if Baekhyun didn’t know very well that he’d get shocked if he tried it he would kiss that smug little grin so fucking hard. “Your man’s gotta work to put food on the table, don’tcha know?”

“Hey, if either of us is the stay-at-home spouse, it’s you, okay,” Baekhyun says, protesting. “Always holed up on this ship, looking after your baby-”

“Fuck _yeah_ she’s my baby,” Jongdae sniffs, imperious. “Y’all just live here. In fact, wouldn’t that make you ‘n Yeol guilty of attempted abduction of a child-”

“Despite everything they taught you at your Fancy Engineer School, Dae-ah, I’m pretty sure airships aren’t children.”

“Try saying that after you’ve built one back up from scraps with your own two hands, honey.”

“Still not child abduction~~”

Jongdae snorts. “Maybe technically not the Syren. But how about that time you two accidentally kidnapped that jopak princess -”

“-Oh would you look at that, is that Kyungsoo calling for me to hurry up?” Baekhyun interrupts hurriedly, pivoting on his heel and making a half-motion towards the exit. Jongdae cackles, throwing his head back for a second. His array of screens flash chaotically, letting out weird scary blips and tinny hisses.

“Drama queen,” Jongdae says fondly, pulling away from his array for a minute and spinning around in his chair, arms outstretched, finally giving Baekhyun what he stayed back for. “C’mere, I promise not to give you a shock~”

“You said that last time too,” Baekhyun grumbles, but leans down and lets his lips meet the siren’s anyways. Tastes ozone and salt and and leftover caphé on the siren’s tongue, over sharp rows of teeth,, on his nacre-carved flushed cheeks. Jongdae kisses languid and heated, licking over the pouty curve of Baekhyun’s mouth and claiming him like the first time all over again, like the dumb teens they once were back on Gol’shan, scrappy gumiho pickpocket and bright-eyed siren mechanic with a too-tall, too-gentle lycan boy rounding out their edges; Baekhyun crawling into Jongdae’s lap, on the couch in the back of the Kim family workshop with scrap parts and static all around, lightning humming in the friction between their bare skin as they melted together.

He’s broken out of his reverie when Jongdae’s lips break from his, opening his eyes to find Jongdae’s own fluttering, satisfaction and bliss emanating from the wide stretch of his smile. “Get going, Baek,” Jongdae says, letting go, electric eyes aglow and lips curled up with affection. “I’ll be waiting for y’all to find something good. Try not to bring back any tiny underworld heiresses this time, hm?”

“ _One time_ ,” Baekhyun mock-groans, a skip in his step on his way out. Jongdae laughs and turns back to his screens. Beyond the spaceglass of the cockpit, long-dead circuits flicker and groan back to half-life. The metal jaws of the dock gate shudder open.

 

-

 

The vacuum of space is an unkind, harsh mistress, stripping living beings of warmth, bleeding life away from any organism unprepared for her cold, killing kiss. The derelict is no exception to her rule - with its systems all evidently offline despite Jongdae’s meddling, the cramped, unending twisting corridors stretch on into pitch blackness. Baekhyun’s vulpine nature lends him excellent night vision, but this is thicker than just a normal lack of light, the darkness choking, heavy, an everpresent pressure all around. Dust motes float in the thin air, lit by the eerie blue radiance of Baekhyun’s foxfire orbs, six bright flames hovering in slow orbit around his person, them and the glow from their visor-lights the only light sources to be found.

Even through the thick insulating layers of his spacesuit, Baekhyun can _feel_ it - the void, the weight of the Rift, creeping in with each step they take, sinking down to the bone. He shudders a little.

“Got any idea where we should hit up first, Soo-yah?” Chanyeol asks, voice tinny through the comms, the sound mixing with the dull thuds of their boots on metal floors.

“Not really sure. I’m getting. V͚ib͇̯̗e̺̤͕s̝̬̙͙.” Kyungsoo bites his lip, looking oddly unsure under the pale visor-lights. “Not sure where from. It’s faint. All muffled under white noise.”

Baekhyun raises a pointed eyebrow. “The Rift’s that bad, huh?”

“Shut up, Baekhyun.” Kyungsoo reaches over to hit him in the side. “Not _that_ bad. We’re just far enough that it’s not Maddening. I’ve still got full control. It’s just….kind of There.”

“Oh, _joy_ ,” Baekhyun mutters. “Ah, look, a handy directory,” he says, cheering up at the sight of the ship map on the wall, sending his foxfire to illuminate the display. “Perfect. Either of you wanna split up?”

Both Chanyeol and Kyungsoo shoot him flat looks. Baekhyun grins a little. Not just him feeling the chill of the Rift, then. “Just had to ask. Shall we try and hit up the cargo bay or the labs first, then?”

“Labs,” Kyungsoo answers. “Probably have more stuff there. Let’s see what we can scrounge up.”

 

-

 

As it turns out, not much. The labs are a ruined wreck, every cabinet and container busted open and looted bare, glass shards and rubble littering the floor, the entire section of the ship barren. The crew’s quarters are likewise ransacked, as is the kitchen, and the leisure rooms, and every other place they check, bringing them to their last destination.

“Pirates,” Baekhyun mutters, tracing the blaster scars burned into the metal of the walls of the cargo bay. “Fuckin’ figures. Any time you find a half-promising wreck, it’s always fuckin' zeespawned _pirates_.”

“We’re not too much better than pirates either, though,” Chanyeol points out good-naturedly. “Just that we don’t kill people. Too much.”

“ _Excuse_ _you_ ,” Baekhyun huffs, whirling around dramatically, his foxfire sputtering and flaring. “I am _insulted_ you’d even dare try and call us as low as fuckin’ _pirates_. We have actual _morals_.”

“You shouldn’t stereotype all pirates like that, Baekhyun-ah,” Kyungsoo drawls from across the room, as he runs his hands past some crates and containment units, scanning for anything of possible use. “Stop trying to take the moral high ground just ‘cause you’re salty they didn’t leave anything for us.”

Baekhyun just whines wordlessly, pouty, looking morosely into an empty crate. “It was labelled with _crysts,_ ” he mourns. “We could have had it all…”

“You truly are oldest in name only,” Kyungsoo snorts. “Hey, what kinda research d’you think they did on here?”

“Soo-Man Corp had a foot in just about every door when they sank, but from this hold alone I’d say. Magitech. Cryst-tech and bioengineering.” Chanyeol responds idly, squinting at the wheel-shaped lock on the door to an intimidatingly large rune-covered Novasteel stasis cube a storey high and as wide across, seemingly the only intact object in the room. “Guys, gimme a hand with this?”

Kyungsoo takes a few quick steps, leaning over and squinting at obscured glyphs, torn apart by the cauterized scar of a blaster. “Damn. They fucked it up bad trying to get in.”

“Yep,” Chanyeol hums, letting out a soft oof as Baekhyun presses up against him, clinging to his back and tucking his chin over his shoulder to get a glimpse. “Didn’t even manage to get it open at all. Whoever made this made it to last. 'N I doubt we could fit this into our cargo hold.”

Kyungsoo furrows his brows, the tips of his fingers shimmering like heat-haze as he traces the messed-up symbols, the heavy pressure of power concentrated enough for Baekhyun and Chanyeol both to sense it. Carved lines glow faintly at the contact. “Don't need to fit it. Whoever tried to get it open knew fuck-all about runes. Give me a few minutes and I think I can fix it. Bring your kitsune-bi over, I need light.”

“For the last time -” Baekhyun grumbles, sending the orbs floating over with a flick of his wrist to orbit Kyungsoo’s head, “- I am a fucking _gumiho._ Not a gods-damned _kitsune,_ Kyungsoo. If I were my mother I’d have _killed_ you for the insult by now.”

“What d’you suppose I call ‘em then, your throbbing fiery fox balls?” Kyungsoo murmurs, smiling as Baekhyun splutters and Chanyeol fairly chokes on his laughter, black creeping into the whites of his eyes and in twisting tendrils over his wan cheeks. “Hush up and let me do my thing.”

It really is a damn blessing, Baekhyun reflects, watching Kyungsoo work, that they picked up Kyungsoo to round out their crew. No one else on the ship knows magic quite like he does. Jongdae, maybe, but his specialty is in magitech, and his power, while wild, is refined - at its core, it is Terran, Earth-born magic. Kyungsoo - Kyungsoo, with his dark eyes and crawling tattoos, freckles sprinkled like stardust and his weighted, infinite gaze - Kyungsoo is of a far more primal, cosmic bloodline. Thank the stars he’s not as crazy as his ancestors turned out.

 _Also really nice,_ Baekhyun thinks, watching the slant of Kyungsoo’s jaw and the way his teeth  dig so nicely into the plush swell of his bottom lip through his visor, light casting shadows that pool in his sclera, bringing out the unearthly luminescence coming from his pupils, _that Kyungsoo is hot as fuck._

“You’re damn right about that,” Chanyeol voices, tone a little hoarse. Wait, did he say that out loud. Ah, well.

“Gods, _what_ is this magic-user fetish you have, captain,” Kyungsoo mutters idly, rather distracted by the task at hand, arm flowing in a gentle arc as he goes. “Honestly, your kink for short, powerful mages is going to get you killed one day.”

Baekhyun opens his mouth, almost protesting, then shuts it. Yeah, that’s fair.

Chanyeol giggles a little. “You just admitted you’re short, Soo-yah.”

Kyungsoo stills briefly, light stuttering, gaze fixed pointedly on the runescript. “....Don’t make me throw you out into the void, Yeollie.”

“Alright, alright,” Chanyeol grins, raising his hands in a placating gesture. A few more moments of silence, the only noise the faint thrum of magic and their faint breaths, are broken when Kyungsoo lets out a soft ‘aha’, reaching up and touching a single point just above his head.

From the point of contact of his index finger, the runes ripple, smoldering alight and singing with purpose, the darkness around them retreating with the force of its radiance. Kyungsoo steps back and practically beams, smugly triumphant, as the wheel lock turns, outlined in a bluish silvery glow. Faint mist hisses and steams out through the cracks as the door begins to slide aside with the hint of a groan, to the sound of Baekhyun and Chanyeol’s cheers. “Jackpot.”

“ _God_ I fucking love you Kyungsoo!”

“You’re the best, Soo!!”

Kyungsoo preens a little, freckled cheeks a muted pink. “Don’t either of you forget it.”

Baekhyun steps inside first, peering around. The interior is just as lit up by the runes as the exterior, washing everything inside in silver hues. Kyungsoo’s efforts clearly didn’t go to waste, from the amount of stuff he can see in here - gun racks in one corner, tech and tools with evident crystal cores arranged on the walls, boxes in one corner of the room clearly labelled with what appear to be different varieties of crystals. Racks of Dust tubes and cartridges and vials filled with intimidating mixtures, organs and tissue floating in rows of green jars. And the most striking of all, set into a pillar in the center of the room, kept safe behind shimmering glass and bathed in silvery light - three orb-shaped stones, gleaming obsidian and flecked with silver.

Baekhyun cackles, a little overwhelmed, elation coursing through his veins. “Yeol, get out the chests! We’re eating fucking good this sol!”

“Holy shit,” Chanyeol says from behind him, fumbling to pluck three small cubes off of his belt and dropping them on the floor, where they expand into three big metal boxes, hovering a few inches off of the floor. “Holy shit, I hope this all fucking fits.”

“We’ll _make_ space,” Baekhyun grins, manic, waltzing up to the veritable mini-armory on the walls. “Or we make a second trip in. God, Yeol, d’you _see_ these fuckin’ _guns -”_

“I’m seein’ ‘em, I’m seein’ - god, they’ve got one for every hue in the spectrum!”

“The _crystals!!”_

“ _They’ve got panaserum!!”_

Kyungsoo enters a delayed moment later, taking slow, hesitant steps forward, drawn towards the center of the room, transfixed. “The cube muffled the vibes.” Kyungsoo murmurs in wonder. “I can _taste_ it now.”

“I can sure taste something alright,” Baekhyun practically sings, nearly cradling a shining platinum rifle to his cheek, only stopped by the visor in between, “the credits flowing into our accounts once we sell all these babies off~~”

Kyungsoo shakes his head. “Sell the others maybe. But these…” he murmurs, stars glittering in his eyes, some nameless melody ringing in his skull. Kyungsoo trails off, blinking, laying his palms flat against the glass. “Don’t think it would be good to let ‘em fall into the wrong hands. Feels like little sparks. Like, energy, lying dormant, frozen.”

“You think they’re some kinda power source? Crystals? Seeds or something like that?” Chanyeol perks up, wandering over to Kyungsoo’s side, eyes alight. “It’s been _ages_ since we got any new plants, oh man-”

“Doesn’t quite feel Green,” Kyungsoo says, contemplative. “It’s all….void-touched. I can’t really get a handle on it. All I can really tell is that’s powerful.”

Baekhyun sighs dramatically, knocking on the glass shield. “I love it when you two go nerdy on us, but I _do_ gotta ask if you think that this will end up fucking us up.”

Kyungsoo snorts. “Our entire livelihood is fuckin’ premeditated on danger, captain. But no, I don’t think these will kill us. Intentionally, at least.”

“Well that’s comforting.” Baekhyun snarks, flexing his hands to let the cloak of his magic settle over them and solidify, each of his pretty fingers now tipped with an ethereal, razor-sharp nail. The sound that rings out when he drags his fingers in a smooth across the glass is quiet, high, thin. One nail slid into the crack and tugged backwards is all it takes for the circle of cut glass to fall out and into Baekhyun’s arms, being put aside quietly.

The stones are smooth and cool to the touch, heavy for their size, each large enough to fit into a palm. Up close, instead of looking flecked with silver, it feels more like gazing into an abyss, silver stars glimmering in a midnight sea, infinitely vast and sprawling, coiled up and molded into a little ball the size of a hand. Baekhyun can’t take his eyes away. Neither can the others.

They stand there for what feels like an eternity, the stones cradled in the captain’s arms. Baekhyun breaks the silence, shaking his head and tearing his gaze away. “Either way, we’re bringing these back with us, along with everything else. Scan the rest of the stuff for any volatiles, will ya?”

 

-

 

There's three fractured stone orbs in a makeshift little nest on the table in front of them, the infinitude of their obsidian outer shells fractured, web-like, and breaking apart from the top outwards, strands of albumen and amniotic fluid glistening in between the cracks. Soft slick noises and occasional high whines and little crackles fill the quiet, along with two steady breaths, coming from the two bodies entangled on the couch opposite.  
  
“So is this quite what you were expecting when you guys brought these on board?” Jongdae asks wryly, voice soft.  
  
Kyungsoo turns his head from where he’s tucked under Jongdae’s arm to give the siren a flat stare. The luminescence of the holopanels reflects eerily in his eyes, something like the abyss hiding in the ring of his irises, and yet the utterly deadpan expression on his cute face just serves to make mirth bubble in Jongdae’s chest.

"I'll take that as a no," Jongdae laughs, pressing a little peck to Kyungsoo's cheek. "Really, none of you thought they might be eggs? Not Baek, not Yeol, not even you?"  
  
"I mean I considered the thought," Kyungsoo mutters, settling back into Jongdae's side, "but they just looked like. Rocks. Magic rocks. I thought they were some sort of mana-rich mineral or some artifact or. Literally anything else. Not..... _eggs_."  
  
Jongdae makes an understanding noise. "First time for everything, Kyungsoo-ah.”  
  
Kyungsoo grumbles a little. "I could fuckin' feel. The power. But it just didn't register as like, living, as Life, until the shells broke and they started hatching and now it's just."  
  
"Just?" Jongdae rubs gentle circles into his back with small, warm palms, coaxing him.  
  
"Like starsong," Kyungsoo says, eyes fluttering shut, tilting his head to nestle further into the crook of Jongdae's neck, skin on patches of scale. "Starsong, and light, and plasma sparking on my tongue."  
  
"I can hear a li'l bit of the 'song, too," Jongdae agrees. "Think it's from Rift exposure?"  
  
"Honestly?" Kyungsoo swallows. "I have no clue. Could be that Soo-Man were investigating alien eggs. Could be that these are science experiments. Could just be that they were sitting next to that Rift for too long, and the horrorterrors reached out and decided to play. I don't. Know. They could kill all of us once they fully emerge and I don't. I don't have any _idea_ ."  
  
Jongdae hums. "Well, what I think," he murmurs, inching his hands further up Kyungsoo's back, digging into the places he knows bother Kyungsoo most and drinking in the warbly little sound the witch makes when his fingers find just the right spot, "I think that whatever beings come outta there have nothing malicious to their cores. At all. Nothing remotely vile or corrupt I can hear in those little baby cries. So when they finally manage to work their way outta those eggs, and the Furry Ones come back from dropping off the goods, we're gonna give 'em as proper of a welcome as we can, and go from there.”

Kyungsoo gnaws on his lip again. It’s one of his cuter habits, but it always leaves Jongdae wanting to force him to put on some damn moisture gel or something because those lips are just too chapped. “I don’t know if keeping them around you guys is a good idea. If they’ve been Touched in any way….I can take the M͚͕̲a̯̳d̻̪ḍ͖ḛ̜ni̱͕̮ng̪̝, but you’d all. It’d be my fault - you’d all -” His adam’s apple bobs, and he shivers, the shadows almost seeming to curl towards him, around him, reflexively, and Jongdae takes the opportunity to lean down and cut off that dark train of thought with his lips against his.

Kyungsoo always gives such sweet sighs, moaning low and airy as Jongdae nips at his bottom lip and licks into his mouth slow. Baekhyun’s kisses are teasing and ever-hot and hungry, Chanyeol’s kisses warm and eager and sloppy with his enthusiasm, and Kyungsoo - their witch is softness and salt and the aroma of spice and home that suffuses him, and he melts so beautifully under their hands. His lips are still chapped, but Jongdae doesn’t mind, not when they’re doing this.

He pulls back only when he can feel that the fear’s been bled away from Kyungsoo’s body, lips parting with a wet little pop, Kyungsoo looking up at him with flushed freckled cheeks and half-lidded eyes like Jongdae’s the only star in the sky. Jongdae pushes down the urge to preen and go in for a second round.

“Soo-yah. If you can't trust yourself to know whether or not these things pose a threat, trust me, alright? You’re not the only Singer on this ship. It’ll be fine."  
  
Kyungsoo blinks, still dazed, but nods. "...Okay." Jongdae hums, pleased, and gets back to cuddling.

The witch says nothing for a while, letting his arms rest wound around the siren and glancing over at the eggs, only letting out unconscious sounds as Jongdae traces paths along his bare skin, mouthing absently at his neck. “How long more d'you think they'll take to hatch?" Kyungsoo ponders.  
  
Jongdae shrugs a little, words muffled and tickling against Kyungsoo's bare skin. "Mm, hell if I know. S’alright, though. We got all the stuff together already. We can just make out till they finish."  
  
Kyungsoo sighs, reaching up and cupping Jongdae's cheek, leaning down to kiss him slow, steady, breaths intertwined. "Sounds like a plan." he hums, and there's not much talking for a while after that.

 

-

 

It takes hours more for the eggs to finish hatching. Chanyeol and Baekhyun return, and make characteristic ruckus trying to fit all four of them onto the couch at once for mandatory cuddlepiling. Kyungsoo and Chanyeol go off to make dinner, and come back with four piping hot bowls, the four of them slurping up their ramen noodles and bantering back and forth, watching as the eggs fracture ever more, Chanyeol even cooing when the first signs of a little egg tooth pierce through the middle egg, and then the left and rightmost eggs in succession.  
  
The waiting and watching wears on into the night, all four of them stuffed onto their longsuffering couch, limbs entangled, voices bright. Chanyeol pulls over a holoscreen so they can watch his collection of movies, complaining when they groan at his choices and sulking until they kiss him and finally come to a consensus, and Jongdae sets up a little sphere of muffling around the eggs so they don't get too disturbed.  
  
The holopanels on the walls are dimmed but for the one in front of them, showing the third movie in the classic early 21st century High School Musical trilogy. Chanyeol, Baekhyun and Jongdae belt along to every song like a trio of drunken salarymen at a Hala'sina karaoke bar, off-key and enthusiastic and practically howling every word, the gumiho's four tails comfortably out and moving along in time. Baekhyun beams and tugs Kyungsoo a little closer when he catches the younger mouthing along under his breath.  
  
They almost don't notice when the first little being finishes hatching. They do take notice when a piercing, shrill, warbly little cry cuts through their boisterous noise like a knife. Jongdae's the one who scrambles off the couch first, flinging Baekhyun’s tails and Chanyeol’s arms aside, Baekhyun and Kyungsoo springing off after him, Chanyeol quickly tapping the panel so the movie pauses. All four crowd around the table.  
  
A tiny baby lizard-like beast, its pearly ivory scales glistening with albumen, sclera golden and pupils round, cloudy nictitating membranes flickering on and off as it takes in its first glimpse of the world, with four too-big humanoids gazing down on it and cooing and a backdrop of Zac Efron and Corbin Bleu frozen mid-passionate dance scene in the middle of a old-timey car junkyard. It blinks again, chirruping, tiny forked tongue poking out and gums bare except for its single little egg tooth, clawing its way out of the remnants of its starry shell. Tiny nubs twitch weakly on its back, where its shoulderblades should be. It's just big enough to fit into the palm of one of their hands.  
  
It's Chanyeol who grabs a towel and scoops the little beast up, gently wiping the fluids off of it. "Looks like a dragon, doesn't it?" he murmurs, voice low, eyes terribly soft as the baby lets out another high-pitched chirp, squirming around to little avail as the new texture overwhelms it.  
  
"Looks a hell of a lot like one," Jongdae agrees, leaning over to gently poke at it, all earlier talk of potential danger clearly thrown out the porthole and into the void. He croons wordlessly, voice tri-toned with sirensong, and his eyes practically glow when the little dragon-thing chirps back, lips stretched wide and curled up with delight. "Ohh, it has the Song! Li'l baby dragon Singer doin' your best, huh?" he coos, gently scratching its head with a finger and beaming when it chirps again.  
  
Another scratchy voice pipes up, and they all turn back to the table, where another, obsidian-scaled little dragon is clawing its way out of its egg, letting out little, lower warbly noises. Jongdae swoops over to pick it up with another towel, cradling it in his arms and wiping it off gently, singing again with siren tones, both baby dragons chirping back in response, a chaotic little harmony. Chanyeol just smiles wide.  
  
Baekhyun just takes in the sight of of the two of them practically melting with affection over the tiny dragons. Sighs, turns to Kyungsoo. "Chances the two of 'em are gonna kill us if we try 'n get rid of 'em?"  
  
"100%, captain," Kyungsoo responds dryly, though his lips are upturned, and his gaze warm. Another cry resounds, and it’s the witch’s turn to move and claim a little baby dragon, holding the steel-gray-scaled beast in his arms as he talks. "It's a big ship, I guess. There's room for a few pint-sized monsters around here."

\--

 

(Chanyeol calls the right to name the eldest one, since he was the first to hold it.

"Xe's _my_ baby," he pouts shamelessly, cradling the little ivory drakeling to his chest, exerting all of the cuteness that a lycan of his age and size and muscle mass should not possess, but does anyways through sheer force of personality. "Don't you all love me? Don't you all _respect_ my naming ability?"

"Not in the slightest,” Baekhyun and Jongdae chorus. Kyungsoo snorts.

“Don’t listen to ‘em. What do you wanna name xir?”

"Toben," he beams, stroking the little drakeling. "Short for Beethoven, since xe's so musical, y'know? Why are you all _booing_ me, I’m _right_ ,” he squawks, at the small chorus of jeers he’s met with.

"Stop naming everything after old-timey musicians, Yeollie," Jongdae deadpans immediately.

Baekhyun snorts, adding on. "Your first gun was Mozart, you named your old piano Debussy, we get it, you love music, nerd."

" _Listen_ , it is a _good name,_ " Chanyeol huffs, pouting harder. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and pinches Jongdae and Baekhyun in the sides, bringing out twin yelps.

"Stop picking on Yeollie, you two. Toben it is. Jongdae, do you wanna name yours?" The siren hums, still holding the obsidian drakeling in his lap, where it's bundled up in a warm blanket and napping, letting out tiny snores.

"Uhhh. I'm bad at naming stuff. I guess......Meokmul?"

Baekhyun hums. "India ink. Very appropriate." Chanyeol squawks, indignant.

"You pick on _me_ for my cool name, and then you just let Dae slide for naming his baby _Inky_?"

"Dae gets a pass because he doesn't have a track record," Baekhyun chirps. "And he's the hotter boyfriend."

"The _audacity_ \- "

"Children, please," Jongdae says, amused. "Yeollie, you are also plenty hot. Kyungsoo, what about yours?"

"...I'm pretty bad at it too," the witch murmurs, eyes lidded in thought, absently petting his drakeling from where xe’s coiled on his shoulder, letting xe gnaw gummily on one finger. "Hm. Huchu, I think." They all coo over him for that, and drink in the resultant little blush that creeps up on his cheeks.)

 

-

 

“So let me get this straight,” A pale face flickers on the commscreen, sharp kohl-lined eyes and round cheeks, soft white pointed ears and tousled purple hair framing the frank look of incredulity. "You went to loot a derelict. Near a Rift. Then you found a bunch of eggs. And now they've hatched into _dragons_ ."  
  
"Basically, yeah." Baekhyun says, with a well-practiced air of nonchalance. Huchu, curled up in his lap, yawns in xir sleep, baring uneven gums, the spines and nubs on xir back flexing with the motion. "Except for the fact that we're not sure if they're Real Dragons, or just Aliens That Resemble Dragons, so we’re just callin’ em drakelings for now. And there's three of 'em, so, y'know, if you could let us know what the heck we've got sleeping on our ship right now, that'd be nice."  
  
"I cannot believe the first thing you contact me for after months of radio silence is to ask me how to take care of a _fucking dragon_ ," Minseok says, with feeling.   
  
He really shouldn’t be, Baekhyun thinks privately, considering Baekhyun’s track record in Troublemaking, Chaos and General Mischief. Out loud, he replies. "Drakelings. Emphasis on the plural. You're the first person I’m turning to for help here, hyung, I trust you."  
  
"The only reason you're going to me instead of Joongi or Taeyeon is because I work as a goddamn information broker, so don't even try'n play that card.”  
  
" _Minseokkie-hyuuuung_ ," Baekhyun pouts, "Aren't we family? Haven't I been a _faithful_ , _adorable_ dongsaeng all these cycles? You would leave your _favorite_ little brother to rot?"  
  
The elder gumiho gives him a flat stare, and Baekhyun swears to his great-great aunt that he can fucking _feel_ the weight of his aura even light-years away. "Baekhyun. You do realise that dragons of any sort are Class A threats at least, right? If that really is what you think it is, if anyone gets word that you even have them, you're going to have smugglers hounding you across every corner of the universe. And if they've spent that long in proximity to a Rift, there is no telling just how much they've changed."  
  
Baekhyun lets the cutesy face slip away, exhaling. "Well, yeah. You think I haven’t thought about how they might eat our ship apart? Rip us to shreds? Cause all of our untimely deaths?" Baekhyun says, rhetorically, glancing down and stroking one gentle finger across soft, ridged, star-speckled gray scales, feeling acutely the steady rise and fall of a tiny chest, the weight of the life in his lap. "But they're just. Babies. They don't deserve any of this. We have room and time to keep ‘em. Also, I'm pretty sure the others would mutiny if I even suggested getting rid of them now."  
  
Minseok sighs, exasperated. "I'll do my best, you fucking brat. If I let you get eaten by a mini void dragon your other hyungs and noonas would come and throttle me. But you better fuckin' come by for Chuseok, alright?" he acquiesces, to the younger's cheers. As always, it pays to be the favorite little brother of the criminal gumiho network.  
  
"We only missed last cycle 'cause we were tryin' to escort the fuckin' Fifth Ascendant back to Sahar'iun, we'll be there this cycle, I swear! But. Don't tell the others about this though," Baekhyun says, more seriously. "Not until we figure out what we're doing." Minseok nods.  
  
"I'll keep it on the down low. You need to run them all through the medscanner and send me the diagnostics," Minseok says, tone shifting into something more professional. "I can hook you up with that dragon tamer friend of mine for advice in the meantime - you remember Yifan. I'll send you coordinates and contacts for places you can go to if you need to get 'em off your ship, too."  
  
Baekhyun scoffs a little. "Unless those options involve sending them to the most protected planet reserve in civilized space, I don't think my crew will even let me finish talking before they throw me out the airlock.”

"I suppose you'll burn that bridge when you get to it." Minseok smiles. "If it's any consolation, if they’re anything like Old Earth dragons I'm pretty sure it'll take a decade or two before they grow past juvenile size, so you'll have your babies for a while if you choose."  
  
Baekhyun pales. A _decade_ of having infant beasts on their ship. Weakly, he asks. "You can potty-train dragons, right?"

-

 

Potty training turns out to be, surprisingly, the least of their problems.

“So I think the drakelings are teething,” is the greeting Chanyeol gives Jongdae and Baekhyun when the two walk into the kitchen in the morning a few weeks later. There’s some low soothing voice crooning over the speakers with rich synths and harmonies, the warm aroma of fresh toast and bittersweet caphé fills the room, and the lycan’s perched on a barstool at the kitchen counter in a hoodie and shorts, his flesh leg propped up and his metal leg outstretched down to the floor, where Toben, tail wagging merrily, is happily gnawing away at it, evident marks in the silvery exterior from the attention of a growing drakeling.

“Gods- Chanyeol, don’t let them _do_ that,” Jongdae cries, darting over and crooning a discordant little note to get Toben to let go of the prosthetic leg, scooping him up into his arms. The jade and emerald of his scales in the warm light contrasts so pretty against Toben’s opalescent ivory coat, and the reluctantly fond face he makes when Toben wags xir stubby tail, flares xir wing nubs and cranes xir head up to lick at his cheek is even prettier. “Xir saliva’s _corrosive_ to metals _,_ dumbass, you can’t just let ‘em chew on you like that!”

“Didn’t know you were into vore, Yeollie,” Baekhyun snorts, ambling over and reaching past him to grab the caphé pot.

“Fuck off, Baek,” Chanyeol laughs, elbowing the gumiho and leaning over to plant a sloppy lick and a kiss to his neck to make him squeal with surprise, ears shooting straight up in the air and his fur standing on end, and the lycan gets a bark of laughter and a slapping with four tails for the action.

“Didn’t you get _enough_ time with my neck in the cockpit yesterday, puppy?”

“Well it’s not like I’m gonna turn down _more_ ,” He nuzzles the bare skin there, taking a breath just to drink in Baekhyun’s familiar vulpine musk and drag a giggle out of the gumiho, before drawing back and leaning over to peck the siren on the cheek. “I can just patch it up with the silver filler later, s’alright, Dae, don’t worry. And I still have my spare in the meantime. Besides, the teeth haven’t really come through yet, so all Tobennie was doin’ was gnawing to relieve the pain. No harm done.”

Jongdae leans into the kiss, still frowning. “Keep saying that when you have to shift and you find your leg _breaking_ because this baby chewed on it,” Jongdae shifts his gaze to the drakeling, who blinks up at him adoringly with big dark eyes.

“Bad Tobennie,” he scolds. The drakeling wilts a little, pointed ears drooping, and Chanyeol gives him a consoling pat. “No chewing on Yeollie’s leg, you could _hurt_ him. We’re gonna have to get you a big ol’ bone or something.”

“Gonna have to get ‘em all bones,” Baekhyun points out. “We’re docking in Sapir’auma for today’s delivery, we can hit up a butcher or a hunter there.” Sapir’auma, a remarkably Earth-like planet rich in mana, was one of the first habitable planets discovered in the first voyage beyond the Terran solar system - and was subsequently made victim to Earth fauna escaping the human colonies and running rampant, though met with fierce competition in some areas from the local, very hostile wildlife. Locals make a killing in hunting the invasive species for Federation bounty….and if some also bag a few of the endemic beasts too, that’s no-one’s business as long as the Galactic Federation doesn’t see.

“We need meat, too,” a sleep-raspy voice pipes up, startling all of them as Kyungsoo trails in with wild bedhead and sleepy eyes, Huchu and Meokmul adorably trotting behind him. “The drakelings will need more of it, 'ccording to Yifan, and we don’t know how much they’re gonna start eating. So we’re gonna need meat. Lots of it.”

Yifan, Minseok's on-and-off boyfriend, does his damn best to teach the lot of them with everything they need to know through the comms, with all of the knowledge that comes from years of dragon-taming and all of the hilarious, absurd, terrifying tales that come with it.

“Noted. Kyungsoo, what are you doing out of bed,” Chanyeol says, a note sternly. “Don’t think we didn’t notice you getting up and wandering _twice_ last night.”

Kyungsoo shrugs, already behind the counter, reaching into the fridge and grabbing a canister of knangkajuice. He pops the cap and watches the pressure hiss out, twin drakelings coiling around his bare ankles like shiny, noisy little accessories. Of the babies, the younger two are terribly attached to their resident witch, and it never fails to make the others coo. “Just regular nightmares, it was fine.” he mumbles, pouring out a glass. “Wasn't even visions. I’ve been worse off.”

Chanyeol looks to his left, and to his right. Baekhyun and Jongdae meet his gaze, trading glances. Regular nightmares for the fourth day in a row calls for special maneuvers.

Baekhyun moves first, pressing a kiss to Kyungsoo’s lips and taking the canister out of his hands, leaving him stunned momentarily and open to Chanyeol’s strike, the lycan swooping up his legs as the drakelings let go with little yelps and winding an arm round his back to carry the witch bridal style. Kyungsoo just lets out an exasperated sigh, not even remotely surprised, looping his arms round Chanyeol’s neck for support. He’s small, too-light, ink markings and delicate freckles and dark shadows blotting his pale skin like the finest canvas, the smell of their bedsheets and stress and green tea shampoo clinging to him.

“We have an actual _job_ to do this sol,” Kyungsoo protests, half-hearted and fully-resigned, as his tallest boyfriend carries him back up the stairs and down the corridor to their bedroom, his other two boyfriends flanking them on both sides, the drakelings trailing after them as they reenter. Chanyeol kisses him softly, tasting salt, before dropping him back onto the bed with an oof and crawling in after him, three of them sandwiching the most sleep-deprived of their crew between them. The drakelings chirp and chitter, squirming in and demanding to be cuddled as well. Kyungsoo, with three sets of limbs caging him in, Meokmul curled around his head and Huchu nestled smugly to his chest, just groans.

“We need to do _work_.”

Jongdae kisses him, smirking when he flushes. “We can’t do a good job if we’re not all well-rested.”

Kyungsoo snorts, voice already fainter just from his head rested against the pillow. “That’s bullshit and you know it, all we’re transporting today are _books._ Not even dark grimoires, or fancy journals. Just vintage books.”

“And we can’t do that job to the best of our ability if one of us isn’t at peak form, hm?” Baekhyun pipes up, nuzzling in closer. Chanyeol rumbles wordlessly in assent, muffled by Toben having seen fit to use his face as xir pillow. Kyungsoo just sighs. The note in his voice is heartmeltingly warm.

“We have to be out of this bed and on the way before 10AM. Junmyeon'll be disappointed if we're late.”

“Already set the alarm.” Chanyeol says, finally managing to wrestle a squirming Toben off of his face and under his arm, reaching over and brushing chapped caphé-tasting lips against Kyungsoo’s dark hair. “Sleeeeeep, Soo-yah.”

“The worst boyfriends,” Kyungsoo mumbles, tucked in and surrounded by warmth and home on all sides, already falling asleep as Jongdae starts humming a lullaby.

 

-

 

The Syren, being a personally and lovingly customized ship, has a lot of things on her that normal, run-of-the-line ships don’t. The tinker room with the attached armory, for example, where Chanyeol and Jongdae and Baekhyun spend their spare time messing around with machina and weaponry and magic, and where Kyungsoo reluctantly ventures when one of them needs particular magical assistance. The greenhouse chamber that doubles as a viewing room and a sunroom when they’re docked on a planet with an appropriate sun, metal hull sliding aside to let the light spill in through spaceglass and nourish the plants, or let you take in the starscape of the void.

Jongdae’s personal favorite detail of the Syren, though? Is definitely her main bathroom. As the rest of them know, very well, from all the time he spends in it.

“Dae, c’mon, it’s been an hour,” Chanyeol says, fondly exasperated, standing in the doorway. Warm lighting and the fragrant scent of roses and jasmine fills the room, bouncing off pale blue and gold tiles, practically spilling out into the corridor. Jongdae, chest-deep in warm water, Meokmul’s midnight head bobbing in the bath next to him, just grins.

“I’m just making sure I stay hydrated, Yeollie, why’re you trying to rush me?” Jongdae simpers, cocking his head towards the little obsidian drakeling paddling around blissfully in the water with tiny, enthusiastic splashes. “Besides, Meokmullie likes the water too, don’t tell me you’d try and make xir sad?”

“I wanna get clean too, y’know,” Chanyeol mock-whines, pouting expressively. Jongdae just wiggles his eyebrows, smirking.

“There’s always room for one more, silly,” he coos. “Just take a shower to rinse off and get your butt in here.”

It’s really cute, how he lights up with the verbal permission, despite almost certainly knowing that Jongdae was going to say that anyways. Chanyeol’s open honest love for affection, the way he soaks in praise and touch like a flower in sunlight, is one of the reasons they all love him so.

Even cuter is the soft chub on his belly, exposed as he wriggles out of his sweater, decorated with a few faded scars and a furry little happy trail. He goes through occasional phases of burning it all off when they’re more embroiled in action and running for their lives, but as of late they’re in peaceful halcyon days, and Kyungsoo’s cooking has filled in more than what lifting weights and running around in wolf form can shave off. The gleam of his prosthetic is unveiled as he shimmies out of his pants, and Jongdae licks his lips at the sight of his long bare legs, his thighs. They’re thick, firm, with a nice jiggle, flesh that you can pinch, grope, sink your teeth into. (As the others have evidently done recently, from the mottled marks blooming on the skin there.)

It’s probably not appropriate to be ogling your boyfriend when you’re in the bath with your pet drakeling, though. Jongdae mentally tells his dick to calm down a little, and grabs the shampoo bottle so he can lather up his hair, casting a few glances at Chanyeol tripping naked into the shower stall and doing his absolute best to set the record for most efficient shower taken onboard the Syren.

Jongdae tries not to let the silhouette of the lycan’s long body through the frosted glass get to him too much, and distracts himself with humming the tune of a pop song he heard when they were in Nadyssa today, the one by that Altissian starlet that’s been absolutely everywhere in this sector of the galaxy. He can’t remember the lyrics, but it’s a simple earworm, a joyful affair that Jongdae takes pleasure in crooning out.

Meokmul, tiring of paddling around, comes and cozies up to Jongdae’s chest, black tail swishing lazily in the water, asking to be held, and Jongdae obliges. Xe catches onto the song quickly and follows suit in xir clumsy, brassy tones, a little echo just a half-step behind Jongdae, sliding into sync as xe learns and mimics the melody. Jongdae switches up to a different track, something more soothing and chromatic, pausing after every few bars to let the drakeling repeat after him, a game Meokmul delights in. They all joke about the drakelings being each of their kids, but Meokmul is the one who’s taken most strongly to music, and seeing xir big golden eyes stare up at him round and bright, warbling and singing with him, makes something in Jongdae’s chest terribly warm.

So preoccupied with their singing, Jongdae almost doesn’t notice when the hiss of water from the showerhead ceases, nor the wet footsteps. He does notice, however, when a canine yip interrupts their song, and a sopping wet 115-pound wolf comes loping out of the shower stall, coat a tawny butterscotch, its right hind leg shining platinum and dripping wet. Its grin is all teeth.

“Don’t you dare - “ Jongdae manages, for a half-second, before Chanyeol wags his furry tail and heedlessly jumps into the tub to the tune of a heavy splash and a siren and drakeling’s combined squawks.

Gods, now the floor’s all wet - nothing that the drainage system won't fix on its own, but it is going to be annoyingly moist when he steps out. Jongdae tips his head back and laughs, patting a hissy Meokmul consolingly where the drakeling has coiled xirself round his back out of shock. “You’re lucky that cleans itself up,” he says, grinning wide when the lycan rumbles in mirth, long body occupying most of the tub, coming forward to cuddle up to Jongdae and give him a big sloppy lick all over his face. Jongdae accepts his fate, giggling and wiping off lupine slobber with bath water. “It’s not even your time of the month, you dope, did you just want an excuse to be coddled?”

From the smug expression on Chanyeol’s lupine face, translated into the curl of his mouth and the self-satisfied swish of his tail, Jongdae can deduce as much. He snorts, leans down and buts his forehead against the lycan’s muzzle affectionately, Meokmul creeping back around and sniffing at Chanyeol warily, spines still raised.

“You’re full-grown, babe, don’t you realise you’re too big for this?” Jongdae says, pulling a faux-apologetic face. “I’m sorry, you’re not a puppy anymore, Chanyeollie, you can’t fit in my lap anymore. It's a hard truth, baby, but you've gotta accept this.”

Chanyeol gives a strong Woof of Disagreement, and punctuates this point by laying himself all over Jongdae. The whole tub is occupied, his tail is practically a motorboat engine in the water, Meokmul is wriggling out of the tub and padding around in interest at the slick floor. Chanyeol is simply Too Big of a Boi. Jongdae can barely contain his laughter.

“Big dumb messy puppy," he sings, notes resonating with warmth. "C'mon, I'll wash you up."

He rumbles like one of those Old Earth crude oil-powered engines, practically purring as Jongdae lathers him up with Lycan Wolf Form Shampoo, reaching particularly high volumes when Jongdae scratches under his chin, and at his ears.

And, of course, halfway through Jongdae's ministrations, Chanyeol just morphs back into humanoid form, because his sense of humour is awful. Jongdae just stares, one brow raised, as flesh contorts and bones crack and limbs rearrange and in a few instants, a distinctly human-looking Chanyeol is in front of him in the tub, prosthetic returning to a humanoid shape, his naked upper body practically covered in suds and grin wide and toothy.

"And what exactly was the purpose of that?"

"Felt like it," Chanyeol says, cheery, shuffling forward to flop into Jongdae’s arms, tucking his head into the crook of Jongdae’s neck. "The look on your face was funny, too."

“You’re such a piece of shit,” Jongdae says, terribly fond. “Well at least we can say your leg’s in full working order, then. Has there been any pain or weird sensations? Any concerns?”

“I think we’re gonna have to get an alloy that’s a bit more resistant to baby slobber if we want this leg to last, but apart from that, nothing weird.” Chanyeol hums, trailing off.

Then he perks up, wiggles his eyebrows a little, coos, and for fuck’s sakes - “Unless you _also_ count the feeling in my _dick_ around you, honey~” And there it is. Jongdae’s only Good Boyfriend is Kyungsoo, he should have ditched the furry ones the moment they picked up the witch, honestly.

“That wasn’t even remotely hot. And you smell like wet dog,” Jongdae groans, teasing. Chanyeol scoffs, leans forward.

“You can’t shame me with that, I _am_ a wet dog. Embrace it. Love me,”

“Been there, done that,” Jongdae sings, winding his arms round the other's neck, planting a kiss on his nose and shrieking when Chanyeol butts his head forward just to get soap all over him, both of them dissolving into giggles, bodies pressed flush together.

They both stop when a thud and a high, draconian yelp fills the room, Then turn, and laugh, because Meokmul's managed to slide across the slick floor to collide with the wall, the drakeling practically puddled there and whining morosely. Chanyeol's the one who gets out of the tub to retrieve the drakeling, plopping xir safe back in the water, and the rest of the bath time passes more calmly.

 

-

 

One of the nicest things about the Syren, to Kyungsoo, is its old-fashioned, homey kitchen - kitted out by Jongdae originally, and then further modified and customized when Kyungsoo came on the crew. Chanyeol’s presence onboard before him kept the three of them from resorting solely to nutri-bars and insta-meals and shitty takeout, but Kyungsoo joining meant that they could all actually eat home cooking six days out of seven instead of one.

The stoveplates crackle as they work, the stews in their pots bubbling up nicely in a simmer, the stir-fry in the wok hissing faintly with heat, steam whispering up and filtering into the ventilator to be cleansed. The soothing sounds of Altissian gospel mix with it, emanating from the speakers in the ship's walls, polyphonic voices and sonorous bells and ancient organs melding together into exultant symphony, chorusing praise for life, love, gods old and new.  
  
Kyungsoo's agnostic - hard not to be, when you know gods are real and flawed and despite everything, some semblance of mortal - but there's just something so warm and bright about the sound of church hymns, a type of sound that carries with it concordance and sepia shades and echoes of his mother's dulcet tones, her voice molten gold amongst pyrite, thrumming through the arcing bones of the chapel, through Kyungsoo's blood. His mother's dulcet tones, warbling, thinning, fracturing -  
  
A soup pot gurgles, lid trembling as stew leaks out its sides. Kyungsoo turns down the heat. The seventh month, as always, brings nothing but bitterness to Kyungsoo’s tongue, just as it has for years.

It’s almost unconscious, the way his mind reaches out, checking over the space of their home. Their captain’s distinctive ghost-light and raspberries aura flickers a floor above, Jongdae’s sea-salt and tangerines taste in the next room over, with the blazing sparks-and-stars of the drakelings next to him. Nearest of all, a familiar, cinnamon-and-cinders presence ambles down the corridor ever closer. Kyungsoo checks on the stir-fry, adding in a little more sauce, pretending not to notice as the hatch moves aside with a soft hum, and Chanyeol pads quietly over with his asymmetric thu-thunk footsteps to wrap wiry arms arms around his waist, tucking his face into the crook of Kyungsoo’s neck, breathing in-out, in-out, deep and steady.  
  
“Hey,” Chanyeol murmurs, voice deep and raspy and smoke-choked right in Kyungsoo’s ear from puttering around tinkering. Kyungsoo will never admit just how easily that tone makes something in the pit of his belly squirm pleasantly. He wrinkles his nose instead.  
  
"If you're not here to help out, you can go chuck your ass in the shower and get that grease off of you," Kyungsoo stirs the soup a little, leans back into the warm body behind him to balance out the weight.  
  
“S’only a little grease, please,” Chanyeol huffs. “S’not like I’m walking in covered in draco-puke.”  
  
“If you even took a step in here with drakeling puke on you I would be obligated to kill you on the spot,” Kyungsoo says lightly.  
  
“Jeez, really feeling the love here, Soo,” Chanyeol says, pouty. One hand worms its way under Kyungsoo's shirt, starts tracing gentle patterns into the bare skin between stomach and hip. "Can a man not get some warm, life-saving physical contact in the dark reaches of space without getting rejected?"  
  
"First of all, you're a lycan," Kyungsoo says dryly. "Second of all, I'm the coldest person on this ship in terms of body heat. Third of all, you're fuckin' _flame-aligned_ , Yeollie."  
  
"I'm not hearing a no," Chanyeol sings, nuzzling the nape of Kyungsoo's neck, right over the spot he knows is ticklish, and Kyungsoo has to work to stifle his giggles, shoulders shaking a little with the force of it, squirming a little to half-heartedly try and throw him off. He can feel Chanyeol's lips curve into a wide grin against his skin.  
  
"So are you just here t -" A little yelp of laughter slips out when one of Chanyeol's hands jabs into his side at another sensitive area, "- to _annoy_ me to death, or we - were you gonna actually do somethin' useful here?"  
  
Chanyeol hums, planting a little kiss against the curve of one ear before slipping away, stepping over to one of the cupboards and taking out a metal jar and a tea maker. Kyungsoo can get an actual look at him now - he’s wearing a well-loved patched-up sweater, and one of their sweatpants from how high the hems of the ends sit on his calves, exposing warm flesh on one foot and gleaming metal on the other, and his cute knobbly ankles on both. "I'm just in here to get some moon tea 'n see what you got cookin'. Maybe help, if you wanna."  
  
"Cruzantin bah-kut-teh, doenjang jjigae, Prukhii stir fry," Kyungsoo says simply. Chanyeol makes a soft noise of acknowledgement, half-distracted by his task. "And some kynebone stew with the bones in for the drakelings. Moon tea? Didn't you take some yesterday?"  
  
Chanyeol makes a face, his aura simmering a little with orange-tinted annoyance and discomfort. "We flew a little too close to Xhemesh today, so it kinda fucked up my whole cycle. Why do gas giants gotta have so many fuckin' moons, honestly? What do they even need with that many rocks in orbit?"  
  
"I don't think they exactly ask for it," Kyungsoo says, cracking a small smile at the disgruntled pout on the lycan’s face. "You're still stocked up on moon tea, right?"  
  
"Oh, don't worry about that," Chanyeol snorts, flinging the cupboard door wide to gesture at the gleaming rows of jars, all with a distinctive crescent imbedded in their sides. "I stocked up _wayyy_ back when we visited Aya'le, don't you remember me coming on the ship with bags and bags of this?"  
  
"I distinctly recall a lot of other stuff being mixed in with that," Kyungsoo says. Letting his crewmates loose in a market is chaotic most days, what with Baekhyun's routine of sweet-talking and haggling every unprepared vendor, Jongdae's tendency to disappear and reappear hours later with a trail of sirenstruck admirers behind him, and Chanyeol's particular spending habit of buying anything and everything he sets his eyes on, but Aya’le, merchant capital, home to the greatest, most sprawling market in the Rhean galaxy, always brings forth the most memorable incidents. Really, Kyungsoo can't take them anywhere.  
  
"Alright, fair, but that time was like. 50% moon tea restocking. I don't think I had room in my bags to even get more."  
  
"Considering the number of bags you drag around with you, I'm surprised," Kyungsoo deadpans. "Well, there's nothing I really need help with, unless you wanna help me out with dessert."  
  
"You're making dessert?" Chanyeol perks up mid-way through pouring in hot water, like a puppy presented with a very large stick. Kyungsoo smiles a little.  
  
"Gonna bake some crumble."  
  
Chanyeol inhales softly, shoulders going down, aura humming with realization, then bleeding gold with empathy. Perceptive as ever. "That time of year again, huh."  
  
"Yeah." Kyungsoo murmurs, inclining his head slightly. "If you don't wanna taste-test my grief-baking, just say so, Yeollie."  
  
"NEVER," Chanyeol squawks, pitch spiking at the very thought of paying that sort of disrespect to Kyungsoo's cooking. He moves over and tugs the witch into his embrace, presses a soft kiss to the back of his head, continuing, softer. "Of course I'll help out. Anything you need, Kyungsoo."  
  
Just his presence, the strong steady beat of his heart, the give of his solid chest, the taste of smoke and spice in his lungs - Kyungsoo melts. His mana pulses and croons, wild and high on the rush of emotion, only bound by the flimsy shell of his skin and the ink bindings of his tattoos. Two cycles and counting, and he still hasn’t built a resistance to any of their affections - Baekhyun’s bright teasing and clinging, Jongdae’s soothing voice and touch, and Chanyeol’s hugs, kisses, the way he doles out praise and physical contact without even _thinking_ about it and Kyungsoo didn’t even know he was starving for all of them until the night he first fell asleep in a drunken puppy pile with three too-sweet strangers in some dingy motel room on Hinoto-ri, the best thing, the greatest miracle that miserable city-moon had to offer.

He does his best to give back and tell them, in his own little ways - cooking favorite meals, holding them close on cold sols - but the only tongue Kyungsoo’s ever been comfortable with is starsong. Words just don’t seem enough. Someday, he’ll show them just how much he loves them all. Take them all to visit the flower field where eomma used to bring him to play, maybe. Buy them rings.

"If you're sure," Kyungsoo says, instead of saying this all out loud, quiet, heart painfully full. "Grab a bowl for me, will you? The stir fry's ready."

 

-

 

"PARK CHANYEOL!! BYUN BAEKHYUN!!"  
  
Chanyeol winces a little when he hears the brassy, sharp bellow ring through the ship. Siren voices tend to have that effect - transcending physical barriers to reach as far as they can, carrying emotion and intent and magic enough to knock any mortal being off of the feet. From the sound of it, it's on this floor, but lord knows which room Jongdae is yelling from this time.  
  
"BEDROOM!! NOW!!"  
  
That answers that question. With a groan, he rises to his feet, dusting off his hands and casting a sad glance over his unfinished tinkering, the scattered parts of the phaser laid out across the workspace, its body with its half-eaten shell sitting in the center, lit up by the lamp. He promises silently to come back for it later. If Jongdae hasn't killed him.  
  
Sighing, he makes his way quickly out of his room, bumping into Kyungsoo with Huchu in his arms, who just shoots him an amused look when Chanyeol gives him pleading puppy eyes and shoos him on his way. The walk over is quick, just down the corridor, and the door slides aside with a creaky hiss (Chanyeol makes a mental note to oil it) letting him lay eyes on Baekhyun, ears slightly turned back and tails flicking absently behind him, standing meekly in front of a Jongdae very pointedly perched on the bed, arms crossed, eyes lidded, dark hair a tousled still-damp mess, the curls at the corners of his lips downturned. Meokmul and Toben are cuddled up contently in his lap, tails flicking back and forth absently, the both of them curled up into each other and practically purring.  
  
Chanyeol quickly steps over and stands next to Baekhyun. Strength in numbers.  
  
"Okay." Jongdae lets out a sharp sigh. His tank top bares his arms fully - Lichtenberg scars shine silver along the insides under the light, the force of lightning captured and frozen forever in the amber of his skin, and his seafoam scales glitter like jewels, strong toned muscle laid underneath. Not for the first time, Chanyeol asks an uncaring, capricious god why the hell Jongdae has to be so fucking hot when he's mad. At least he doesn't look too pissed - mostly annoyed. “Which one of you two was the last one out of bed this morning?”

Chanyeol blinks. “Uhhhh….why?” he asks, glancing to his left, where Baekhyun twitches and braces himself.

“Because whoever did left the closet door _open_ . And _let the drakelings in_ ,” Jongdae hisses, gesturing to the far right. Chanyeol and Baekhyun’s eyes both follow the motion, landing on the closet on the wall, and - oooooh. Drawers in disarray, clothes spilling out and puddled at the sides. Claw marks. Shredded pyrewool and cotton and mirasilk and polyester - ahhh, that pair of pants had been expensive, Jongdae had loved it so much, and so had the rest of them for the way it hugged his perfect ass so well. Chanyeol _winces._

“Whichever one of you did this is going to have the honor of treating me to a new wardrobe the next time we dock somewhere,” Jongdae grumps.

Chanyeol glances over at Baekhyun. Gives him a look of consolation. Baekhyun sighs. “It was me, babe, I’m sorry,” he says, plaintive, wincing when Jongdae raises a very pointed eyebrow. “We’re cashing in that job in Atara’yan next week, I’ll take you to the High Street and let you get anything you want.”

“Fine.” Jongdae says, looking a shade appeased, stroking Meokmul’s spines. Baekhyun perks up a little, until Jongdae speaks. “No sex until I get new clothes.”

Baekhyun’s jaw drops in horror.

 

-

 

Expected downside of the Drakeling Wardrobe Incident - Baekhyun is absolutely Cut Off from Jongdae’s usual sexual homo antics, while also being tortured with even more romantic homo nonsense. Chanyeol keeps catching the two of them kissing all over the ship, only for Jongdae to break away without any warning and saunter off, leaving Baekhyun a frustrated hormonal puddle on the floor in his wake. Jongdae will even pull Kyungsoo and Chanyeol into makeout sessions, practically rutting against them like some shameless desperate teen, with Baekhyun _right there_ and practically melting with arousal. Chanyeol has some qualms about torturing their eldest boyfriend like this; Kyungsoo has none. They at least keep it to a minimum when the drakelings are around, small mercies.

Unexpected upside of the Drakeling Wardrobe Incident - with his usual outfits gutted, Jongdae takes to wearing all of their clothes instead. It’s almost embarrassing how warm Chanyeol’s cheeks get when he sees Jongdae messing around at the console in one of his oversized sweaters, sweater paws flopping around, or how flustered Kyungsoo gets when Jongdae putters around in his pants, hanging low on his hips, and no one can keep their hands off of him (a fact he basks in in very characteristic Jongdae style, returning all their touches with butterfly kisses and brassy laughter.)

This, in turn, leads into an unexpected downside: all the siren has to do is pull on one of Baekhyun’s shirts and bend over even a little and Chanyeol can barely _breathe_ without choking on gumiho pheromones. Which is bad, because like Pavlov's dog, Chanyeol has been subconsciously trained since the start of their relationship to associate Baekhyun's pheronomes with Getting It On With Baekhyun, which he can't do, because Jongdae, and Jongdae keeps holding himself back from jumping Baekhyun's bones because of this dumb fuckin' game when he just wants to pound Baekhyun through the damn wall. And Baekhyun, of course, is the worst off, because Jongdae's roped the rest of them into the Sex Ban, so he's just a mess.

So really it's just bad for everyone except the drakelings, who are unaffected by this mess, and Kyungsoo, who gets to reap both Jongdae's attention and Chanyeol's frustration in full, and basically wanders around the ship as a glowy being of satiation for the whole week. And to cap it off, Chanyeol's nose is overwhelmed and _sensitive_ and the Syren's ventilation system only helps so much when the source of the irritant in question is constantly pumping it out.

“In summary, can you please just fuck him already so I stop sneezing,” Chanyeol finishes his speech, gesturing effusively, making the most pitiful face he can and sniffling for good measure. His nose, indeed, is red and sick-looking.

Jongdae hums, contemplating, one hand curled around his mug of musacaphé, the aroma mixed with his own sea-breeze and ozone scent to Chanyeol's nose, blessedly blocking out the faint traces of gumiho hormones in the kitchen. “Not done dragging it out yet, Yeollie. Besides, we're landing in Atara'yan in two sols, I'll make it up to him then.”

Chanyeol groans. “Look, Dae, I know you wanna do that desperate pent-up sex thing that you guys like, but this is actually negatively impacting my health. I nearly inhaled a Dust cloud when I was tuning up Gershwin today!”

Jongdae pats his face, smiling blithely. "You poor baby. Forgetting to wear your mask again?"

Chanyeol pouts. "Okay, shut up, I forgot - the _point_ is, this sexual tension is hazardous to both health and home," he says, waving about dramatically. "And really, we all know you've forgiven Baekhyun for anything, so it would be nice if you'd reassure him of that and just suck his dick already so he stops his permanent transformation into a ball of stress."

"I mean that sounds good and all," Jongdae drawls, taking a sip of his coffee, lips curling around the rim and eyes dark, "But you know whose dick I _really_ wanna be sucking right now, though?"

"Stop trying to distract me with your Sexual Wiles, Dae," Chanyeol warns. "My nose is runny, this is not optimal fucking condition." He swallows when Jongdae just raises an eyebrow and drags his gaze from his face, slowly down, licking his lips, salacious. God damn it he's so fucking hot. The worst part is that he _knows_ it.

Jongdae grins. Evil, he's _evil,_  Chanyeol's boyfriend is a tiny evil little menace of a siren. "Since when has 'optimal fucking condition' ever stopped us?"

"Well we ignored it once, and then me 'n Baek got sick with the same bug that you had, so I dunno, I think it has some merit," Chanyeol mutters weakly, resolve already crumbling.

"Well it's a good thing this isn't an actual illness then, puppy," Jongdae purrs, voice like silk, setting his mug aside with a clink and getting out of his seat to corner Chanyeol against the kitchen counter, trailing callused, static-laden fingers delicately from his neck, down his chest, stopping just at his hip. Drinking in the shudder he gets in response, the erratic rhythm of the lycan's pulse.

He's nearly a full head shorter than Chanyeol, with narrower shoulders and slender hips, but god, his thighs're pressed up against Chanyeol's own and the lycan can acutely feel the firm muscle there, has to fight the urge to reach around and touch his pert ass. The little scales scattered on the apples of his cheeks gleam, as do his eyes, alight from within by that everpresent, unearthly golden glow, framed by midnight-black thick locks of hair and the sharp, glass-cut angles of his jawline, his cheekbones. Chanyeol swears he can feel his hair standing on end.

"Kyungsoo would kill us," Chanyeol says, a last-ditch attempt. It's true, because if they defiled the kitchen, Kyungsoo would know (because Magic) and would almost definitely kill them.

The smile that pulls at Jongdae's face is nothing short of indecent. "Then let's take this to the bedroom, yeah?"

 

-

 

The cloud of pheromones is extra strong from the main bedroom, but Chanyeol just assumes that's from Baekhyun's status as a Non-Stop Hormone Machine this week, until the door slides aside and they're met with delightful pitchy moans and squelching noises.

Jongdae's whole sultry face dissolves as he whines, like a child who's just had their favorite toy taken away. " _Kyungsoo_!"

Chanyeol just grins, already fully onboard. "Being gay? Without _us_?"

The witch pulls off of Baekhyun's dick with a wet pop, lips slick and swollen, eyes lidded, freckled cheeks flushed, scrawled ink swirls and arcane sigils slithering across his bare flesh. The lighting from the walls casts their figures in a soft honey-gold glow, like candlelight spilling over their naked forms. One hand is on the gumiho's thigh; the other is curled around the base of his blushing, drooling cock, and the gumiho himself is laid naked and panting across the bed, lower half and tails all dangling off of it where Kyungsoo's got his legs spread so he can sit between them.

"Shut up and get over here, you two. Captain's about to blow, and if one of you isn't in his ass when I sit on his dick I'm going to be very disappointed."

"What he said," Baekhyun manages, voice shaky.

"You just had to spoil it," Jongdae whines, though he comes forward anyways, draping himself over Kyungsoo's back. "I was gonna ride him 'til he cried, y'know."

"And people call me the evil-looking one,' Kyungsoo murmurs wryly, teasing the tip of Baekhyun's dick with his fingers and getting a shuddery little moan and writhing tails in response. "You can still do that once I'm through with him. Yeollie, get the lube, will you?"

"Done," Chanyeol says, cheery from the bedside table, extricating their very-well-used lube bottle from the bottom-most drawer. "Mind if I do the honors, babe?"

"Gimme a moment," Kyungsoo says, distracted by Jongdae mouthing wetly at his neck with sharp teeth, nudging at Baekhyun. "Captain, up on your knees."

"Doggy style for the doggy," Baekhyun rasps, giggly, then yelps when Kyungsoo pinches his ass, quickly shuffling up the bed on shaky legs and rolling over, ass up in the air and tails raised up and in tangled disarray around him.

"Y'know Dae's gonna prolly plot something even worse for you later on, right?" Chanyeol slides into place behind him, patting his ass with his clean hand and taking the moment to grope it appreciatively. Not as plush as Kyungsoo's or as round as Jongdae's, but Baekhyun's ass is cute in its own particular way.

Baekhyun hums breathily, presses backwards into the contact. So damn pretty, needy, pliant - roguish and steel-sharp and all fangs outside, but in here, with the people he loves, he glows under their attention, melts under their touch. "S'long as that involves us actually getting off, I don't mind a shred. C'mon Yeollie, gimme it~"

Baekhyun's ass also happens to be the ass Chanyeol happens to be most familiar with - so when he works one lube-slick finger in, he knows just how deep to go before he crooks his finger, curling straight into the gumiho's prostate and eliciting a delicious low whine. He hasn't been touched in a week, so he's god damn tight, and Chanyeol takes his sweet time with stretching him back open again, spending far too long dragging one finger in and out until Baekhyun whines for a second, and then a third, fucking in and out of him, deliberately missing his sweet spot. Takes his time watching the muscles in their captain's back go slack, his ears flatten back and quiver, his untouched cock dripping come onto their bedsheets, face smooshed into a pillow and barely muffling his wrecked sounds. Traces little spirals and patterns with his free hand over Baekhyun's bare back, running warm fingers over blemishes and moles and scar tissue, pressing down at just the right spots just to make Baekhyun moan.

"Could you possibly go any slower," Kyungsoo deadpans, voice hitched and breathy, Jongdae giving a wordless little hum in assent. When Chanyeol glances over, they're both still entangled on the floor, Kyungsoo with thighs spread wide and his back to Jongdae's chest in the siren's lap, Jongdae's fingers thrusting into the witch's hole and his mouth latched onto Kyungsoo's neck, planting further hickeys into the ink-blotted garden of his shoulders.

"You've gotta be patient, Soo-yah," Chanyeol says, teasing, curling his fingers up and driving a long high shivering keen out of their eldest, tails twitching uncontrollably, before finally withdrawing and sitting back. "But yeah, I think he's ready. Who wants to get at it?"

Jongdae manages to tear himself away from Kyungsoo's now lovebite-riddled bare skin, pecking it one last time before sliding his fingers out of Kyungsoo's ass and helping the other get up. "He's been waiting all week for this," the siren drawls, crawling onto the bed and patting Baekhyun's ass. "You want it, babe?"

"You absolute fuckin' starburnt _dick_ , f-fuck _yeah_ I do," Baekhyun whines, throwing a desperate, slightly-annoyed look back over his shoulder. "Why're y'all even askin', someone just fucking fuck me already, _gods_ -" he trips over the last word, hiccuping as Jongdae presses the head of his cock to Baekhyun's wet rim and slides in slow, all the way down till his hips meet the swell of the gumiho's ass. "It's about - 'bout fuckin', t- _time_."

"So mouthy," Jongdae coos, giving a tiny roll of his hips just to make Baekhyun squirm on his dick. "Up, make room for Soo."

It takes a little more maneuvering to get into a position that's comfortable for them - fortunately, they've got a nice big bed to work out the logistics on. Kyungsoo, laid out underneath Baekhyun, moans softly as the elder sinks in to the hilt in Kyungsoo's tight heat, with one arm wrapped around Baekhyun's neck and the other clinging to Chanyeol's hand, letting the lycan pet his hair. Jongdae lays another kiss on the back of Baekhyun's neck and gives an experimental little thrust and nothing more, grinning wide and sharp when the gumiho and the witch both keen, practically in harmony.

"You've got all of us right where you want and you're s-still," Baekhyun huffs, face buried in Kyungsoo's neck, "Still bein' a teasing fishy asshole about it. C'mon."

"If you wanna keep complainin' so much I can just leave," Jongdae says, amused. Kyungsoo and Chanyeol share a fondly exasperated look, the lycan tracing the bumps of the witch's knuckles absently. Baekhyun just turns his head, flicking his tails where they're laid out on either side of his body, and scoffs.

"Got Yeollie 'n his nice big knot right here to pick up y'r slack, so go ahead 'n - f- _fuck_ \- " Baekhyun yelps, melting forward into Kyungsoo's embrace as Jongdae rears back and actually starts _doing_ something, thank gods. From there on, there's not much conversation, Jongdae preoccupied with fucking the everliving daylights out of the two below him, Baekhyun and Kyungsoo kissing messy and desperate and both doing their best to stay with the rhythm, three of them in synchrony, with Chanyeol sitting by the side and just taking in the view. The contrast really makes it special, to Chanyeol - the clash of Jongdae's blue-green scale-patched flesh against Baekhyun's sleek sanguine fur and Kyungsoo's pale tar-scrawled skin, all flushed with pink and glistening with fluids and stained with the honeyed hues of the bedroom lights. And the sounds, well - Chanyeol's burned the audio of their romps into his brain a million times before, drunk in the medley of their wrecked voices and slick flesh on flesh, and it never, ever gets old. 

"You're doin' so _good_ , babe," he murmurs, breaking past his own thoughts and through the din of their fucking, petting Baekhyun's ears, smiling as the gumiho nuzzles into the touch and moans needily. "Lasted this whole week even with Dae bein' a menace, you've been so good for him, so good for us."

"D-don't y'all fu-fuckin' _dare_ ," Baekhyun gasps out, crimson hair bouncing, chest heaving, gaze teary, expression jolting with every thrust Jongdae drives into him. "I know- know - what you're do- _doin_ ', don't even t- _try_ -"

"Our f-favorite boy," Kyungsoo breathes softly, stuttery, words broken up into fragments, eyes half-lidded and glazed over with an octane sheen, and Baekhyun practically mewls at the praise, burying his face against the witch's neck. "So go-od for us, cap - captain, so fuckin' per- _perfect_ , d-did so we-ll,"

Jongdae goes in for the kill, leaning in close, biting down gently on the flushed column of Baekhyun's neck, hips still working piston-like in two-four time, cock splitting Baekhyun apart. "Did so, _so_ good, you deserve to come, hm?"

Baekhyun _wails._ Jongdae grins with all three damn rows of teeth. "Come for us, babe," he croons, tri-toned with sirensong, and with a broken sob, claws digging into the sheets and tails writhing, Baekhyun does just that. He doesn't stop spasming and quivering as Jongdae and Kyungsoo use him up between them, riding out the waves of his orgasm and spreading himself thin, oversensitive and ruined in the aftershocks and crying as Jongdae fucks into him one final time and comes, and Kyungsoo soon after between their abdomens. There's a long moment there where none of them move, three of them too wrung out to even lift a muscle, the fourth too mesmerized with the view.

"Yeollie, you didn't come," Kyungsoo pipes up, voice hoarse, eyeing the lycan’s still-stiff dick with a dark, hungry look. Jongdae and Baekhyun both perk up.

Chanyeol flushes a pretty red from his ears all the way down his chest, shifting in his spot from the attention. "Well if you guys wanna do somethin' about it, be-"

The hum of the door sliding aside hits all of their ears, and all of them turn at once to the entryway to see three little lizard-like forms come chirruping and barrelling into the room, coats ivory and obsidian and steel-gray.

"Oh gods, they woke up," Kyungsoo sighs, tipping his head back and groaning.

"Are you kidding- " Jongdae gapes, "- nine hells, did we not lock the door - "

"Well obviously," Chanyeol rumbles, laughing a little, quickly moving to pull on his boxers despite the raging boner he's still got. "I'll get rid of 'em, don't worry. C'mon, kids," he coos, scooping up all three wriggling little drakelings into his arms, disappearing out the door and wandering over to the guest bedroom that they've designated the drakelings' room (which half the time they don’t actually sleep in), turning on the holoscreen and putting on an old early 21st century Classic. They don't quite know what it is about High School Musical that gets the drakelings so entranced, but none of them can complain about it when they need some time to themselves.

When he gets back, he's immediately jumped, dragged to the bed and worked to a trembling, teary finish from three mouths and pairs of hands. Cleanup's messy as usual, and Jongdae pouts at getting bedsheet-changing duty, but being sandwiched between three other warm bodies in the shower afterwards more than makes up for it. Kyungsoo fishes out and heats up leftovers, and Chanyeol and Baekhyun herd the drakelings into the den, all of them squished up together eating dinner and fighting over what show to put on next. (Chanyeol wins and gets to put on a nature documentary, over which the drakelings are particularly mesmerized. Kyungsoo leans in to Baekhyun’s chest and murmurs quietly that they should take them out for a field trip somewhere.)

The four of them fall asleep tangled together, buzzing with endorphins and affection, hearts intertwined. It's a good night.

 

-

 

A familiar, endless, sprawling cityscape, melting into kaleidoscopic fractals and an infinity of geometric shapes, twisting and morphing in and out of existence, Euclidean shapes crumbling and forming every time you blink. The facades of buildings turn and twist like giant Rubik’s cubes of architecture, glass and metal and gleaming spires unraveled and woven into a million different tapestries and fabrics; the only constant is the eldritch Otherzee above, a sea of crawling chaos, threaded with mesmerizing prismatic streams of light. Reality itself shatters and crumbles and reforms endlessly, malleable as clay, like the most awful, transcendent acid trip on this plane. As always, it gives him a headache.  
  
This is why Kyungsoo fucking hates dreaming. You always run the risk of some bilgespawned Higher Being looking to drag a witch into their schemes. Fuckin' horrorterrors. Fuckin' heritage. Fuckin' magic. At least this landscape gives away who he's talking to this time.  
  
He stifles another exasperated sigh as the amorphous figure draws closer, tipping his head forward. "Ancestor."  
  
The very space around their form oozes with Chaos, the hollow sockets where eyes should be dripping with nothingness and more numerous than any being's eyes should be, their facade of a physical form seemingly humanoid but just too long, too thin, too pale, too many joints and some with none at all. And always, the shadows, draping their form, crawling, writhing.

That's R̢̨̗̞̻͕̥͙͎͓͔̙̲̣̿̋͋̍̓̉ͮ̅́͒̅̅́̐̕ͅh̵̴̝̟̠̜̎ͧ͂ͭ̆͡'̷̨̮͓̹̻͙̥̟̙̮̦̻͇̓ͭ̑͆ͧ͘͘a̧̧͙̫̟͙͕͙̩̾̎͌ͬ͗͑̀̃ͮ̏͑ͅ for you. Ancient, world-eating, mind-melting, capricious Old One, and also the being who essentially functions as Kyungsoo’s most annoyingly doting guardian figure. When they feel like it, at least.  
  
They chide him, as usual, mouths moving just a nanosecond out of sync with their voices. "We keep telling you to refer to us as G̨͚͋ͪr̪̳̯͖͗̒͆ͧá̝̳̘ͣͩ͜nͥ̎ͪ͋̒ͣd͚̠̬̿ ͈͌͑ͧ̾͝S̻̈͊̍̓i͉͔ͅr̡͇͔͚̬̗̼ͭ̆͛ͅe̜͉ͤͣͅ, childling. How ͂͊ͣr͕͖͇͈̽̒u̜̫̜̪̙d̀ͪ͋͑͏̟ę͎͚̮͖̙̓͛̒ ̨̙̣̺̭ͨof you."  
  
Kyungsoo scowls. "Haven't we established that I'm not going to do that ever? Thought you liked that I'm a bratty upstart, as you keep saying."  
  
They hum. Ninety-five tiers of pitch chorus in symphony behind them. Show-off.

"We are é̤̗̜̘ͧ̏ͩ͂̅͛v̲̣̜͂̀͌̿̔e̛̠ͭͧͣ̋͂͊r̪͗̿͛ͣ̚͢ ̧̓͆f̔̈ò̌̊̀ͩ͞n̞͎̝̤̱̰̎̈́̿̈́̈͡d̩̭͔̣̟̭̖͂̂̔̈̈̄̕ of ̥̋ͧa̙͉͕̯̘̪̒̌ͭ̓͋̽̆͟l̵̤̜̰̜̓͗̄ͧͭl͖̭͆̄̐̑ͯ͌̽̕ our children, little s͙̟͓̽̅̆p̷̠̗̯̄͊ͪͪ͒a͌ẅ͍̠́͒ͮ͆ͭ̏̾͞n̈́̆͋̎̐ͪ͐of ours. Some other s̺̭̪̃̑͂̑ͨͫ̍i̴͊ͩ̎͗̒b̬͕͂͢l̵̳ͨ̒̒͂́̓̅i̱̰͚͚͙̮̻͊̆͑̑͌͊n̖͋ͫ̾͋̔̇̂g̙̫̥̗̫ͩ͒̅͌s̴͇̬͒̈̄ ̜̱̆͂̎̑ͩ̽͑of ours call it a ̴͎̦̰̤w͇ͤ͋̀ͤ̔̑ẻ̞͙̙͚͒͡a̝̯̞͚͈̮ͯͯ̌̒k̷̜̜͇̒n̘̬̤̩͇͙̒̿̔e̻̣s̘̞̭͔͍̀̄ͨ͌͆͌͋͟ͅs̞̤ͦ̂͌͋͝, but you are all just so p̛̠̎ͦ́ͫ͗͐͊r͈̙͔̾́̇̏̐ͭ̽ͥ̚͞e̩͐͐̈́̈́ͭͭ̚͞c̡̠͖̱̙͇͛̉̌͊̅̀̑̚͡i͐̈́͗̓̊͐ͤ͗҉͏̲̹ͅơ̎̃̈̎̀ͨ̚͏͎̰̞̰̙͍ư̧̘̥͇̱̺̼̪͗ͪ͌ͭš̴̻͙̬̙̲͖͊̒̅ͭ͐̑̅͞."  
  
Yeah, sure, precious. Precious like how Kyungsoo's great-great-great-great grandmother had given into the blood and ripped a hole in reality straight into the fifth plane right in the middle of a populated city, causing a Madness plague that had taken the entirety of Old Earth's sorcery to shut back down. Precious like how his great-granduncle had ripped dozens of infants from their families to feed them to horrorterrors from the ninth plane all because he felt like it. Kyungsoo is ever fucking thankful that his mom was the sane one out of the family tree.  
  
"What is it you want this time, Ancestor," Kyungsoo says. A growing dread gnaws at his stomach. The drakeling eggs had been in proximity to the Rift. Fuck. Fuuuuck fuck fuck.  
  
":Your fear is terribly d͓̯ͥ̃̈́̄͋ͅe̳̹̠̖ͩ̌ͩ̽̉͢l̤̣̓͊ͧ̾̓i͕̠̱͗͆͠c͐ͭ̏̍҉̰i̚ȯ̫̣̭̗͐̆̀uͨͩ̽ͤ̑s̄͑̊͒ͪ, dear, but there is no need. We have not ̭̱̰͑ͤT̷ͮ̂̄̏͋̌̾ǫ̞ͬͤ̈͝u̠ͥ̔̅̔c̋́ͣ́h̶̠̄ͯͬe͇͌ͪͬ̑ͥͮ͟͠d̢͖̱̭̥̯̾̑̂͒͠ your little s͍͓ͦt͕̜͖͑ẩ͒͛r̭̠̖̠̆̍s͊͑p͋̎a̝̯̳̻w̔̀̋n̜," they say, amused. "None of us have. We actually barred the ö̹͇͖͕́ͭͫt̟̻̯̲͈̼͇ͫh̩̬̮̤̠̙͌e̸̠̓r̶̗̞̊͗̇̑s̫͔͇͛̽̽̓ͬ͑͑ from doing so, though they did scowl and g͌r͗u͛̔̆d̦g͉͙ͬ̏ͅë́ us for several eons."  
  
Kyungsoo blinks. Well, that's. Well. "....why? And why did you call me here just to tell me this?"  
  
"Their fates and those of you and your loves are ĭ͉̫ͭn͔̔̌̊̀t̓éͦ͛̓r͚̄t͋ͦwi̎̈̚n̛̙̘͑ͣ̈ͭe͆ͭ̿̈ͧd̏́̃ͥ, and with that of the w̲̱͕o̵̪̾ͥͮ̈́̔̽̚r̬̠̺̠̙̆̈̋͆̾̚l̷̯͎̏d͎̫̎͆ͪͬ͆̀ to come," they say, patiently. "Their lives will ripple down in about a million å̈́̍z̦l͒ͥ̃ͣo͌ͦͤ̾c͐h̽̄ṥ̥̈́̅ͅ or so. We of this plane do w̪ͧ͑iͣs̿h for this universe's continued E̓x̔̈̿ͬͨͨp̡ͤ͊͋̏̆ͪͣ͆̄͜ā̍̉̓͋҉͍n̸̺̗͚ͧ̇ͯ̋s̵̳̭ͦ̋̏ͩ̓i͊͂͝ô̧͂̌ͫ͐̽͟͜n̴̄̈́̅ͭ͢, so it was î̯͍͔̩̙͓̐̅̆̔m̝͙̟̬̣̣͑ͬp͉̥̭̟ẹ͍͖̻̃̉ͣͯr͚̩͔̱̉ͪ̋̒̆a̋t͈͉̟̜̹͙͇̉i̫̝̤̝͆ṽ͓̺͔̹͆̾e̹͔̦̺͕ͪ͂̅ that events followed this path. They remain tragically u̝͍ͪ̉ͭ̀ͥn̓̐tͨọu̮̯͔͍̞͋͂͗c͕̻̟͍̳̮̼͗ͯ͗h̟̱͈́̑̂̇e̟͗͐ͩͪ̔̉ͅd̟͈̭̫̘͗̔̂̾̒́, so do stop driving yourself Mad over it."  
  
Fucking meddling All-Seeing Ancestor. Kyungsoo gives as skeptical and doubting a look as he can muster with his astral form. They bring an appendage to their mouths in dramatic fashion.  
  
"Are w̮̠͌̽ͅę͚̝̋̋ not allowed to perform b̥͉͔ͫė͓̯̹̍ͯnͦ͂ͬ̍ͫ͌e̞f̹͎̦̉̈́̓́͑̚ȋ̘̫̝͙̜̐̍͒ͯč̓͌̾ͥ̚i̜̺͆͆ͯ̐ͭ̏͑ǎ̺̟͌͆ͩ̊l̟͎̈ͮͩ̋ͬ͐̌ acts for our own b̛̜̤̯̂͋ḻ͈͔̂̆͟o̵͕͚̘͂ͪ̄͗̎̈́ò̢̻̘ͩ̐̉d̺͎? If your lovers went Mͥ͗ͯͫͨ̔̽͞ͅa̭̬̱̍d̞̉̇̒̚ it might drive you to grief, would it not? We merely acted to ensure your b͔̞̻̻̭̗̣͐ͣ̍l͓͎͈͖̫̻̤ͮi̙͕̲̠̳͗̑͊̔ͧš̋̽s̺̟, childling." they say, polyphonic voice almost. Tender.  
  
Kyungsoo inclines his head slightly, feeling something like gratitude bubble up, past the doubt. "....Thank you. G̜̦͈ṛ̖͍a̮̗͈͓͓n̦͈d̖̮̠̞sir̰̲͓̦ͅe."  
  
His Ancestor positively beams, the force of that grin tearing their face apart with too many teeth, space squealing with delight, discordant harmonies screaming in from fucking nowhere, the light streams above twisting in on themselves and tying into elaborate knotwork, the cityscape running rampant with energy. It would be funny how enthusiastic they're being if they weren't an ancient other-dimensional eldritch deity, and also Kyungsoo's stupid Ancestor.  
  
"A̸͙̪̜͗̋̈́̎ͦ̒a̼ā̈́̎͛ͫ͂a̱̹̬̮̬̅̇̚a̦̙̬̮̺͡a͙̣̦a̞̟̰̰̰̫͢h̢̫̣͕̼̗̻͖͊̊̂͊ͪ, how long we’ve w͓͕̫ͧ̇͑̕áͨͬ͊i̎̏̅҉͕t̼̞̣̗ͧ̀͊̾ͥ̌ͨe̳̳̲̋̑ͪ͂d̨͉̗̬ͩ̽ for this! Our most reluctant and c̄͐ḁ̙͆̀̀n̏ͣͨt̂ͦ̓̀͐àͦn͎̪̄͂̓ͣk͗̇̉ẻͩͦr̓̒ͨ͋̐o̳͎̓̔̂̉ͦ̂ͅu̠s̆ childling, finally showing us the love we’ve c̣̥̍̆̋ͦr͊ả̄͗̀̀vͫ̂̑̉̋e̻͚ͧ̀̾̈́͗̆ͅd̟͑̉͌̊̚ for so long~"

“I’ve only been alive for twenty-three galactic standard cycles, and you are _way_ older -  ” Kyungsoo stops. Squints. His Ancestor’s grin only grows, teeth growing to accommodate the stretch.  
  
"Wait. Don't fucking tell me you _orchestrated_ this whole thing just so I'd call you _G̜̦͈̮͕ṛ̖͍͇̥͉a̮̗͈͓͓̤͎n̦͈̭̩d̖̮̠̞̬ͅs͉̬͈ir̰̲͓̦̺ͅe -_ "  
  
"Ṭ̗̘̪ͧ̌ͧ͂̇ͭͭi̹͂̌ͫ̀m̥͍͈͚̖̮̃̊̉̄ͦ͑ͧ͜e͖̺͖͆̄͌̆̐̽ͦ͘ ̠̭̬̰̭̿ͬt̤̳ͭͅȱ̙̺̘̣͓̭͐ͅ ̇̊͗ͫͩ̓w̖̃̃ͯ̌ạ̻͖̝̪̉ͤͪ̇̈́k̼͕̞̩̜͓̯̐e̘̦̮ ̧ͧͯ̾ͨͥͧũ̓͒͋̉ͭp͇̣̠͔͕͍ͨͯ,̵͍͎̞͎͙͇ͯͭͣ̒ ̜̩͉̅͂ͨͩ͡c̲̳̱͈̏͒ͨ̏h̪͚̰̼͢i͏l͈͉̻̣̹͓̱̽̆̑ͬ͠d̬̹̘͕͚l̳̥͖̪̜͍̭͌͞i͔͓̠͇̹̯ͦͦ͠n̲̠͓̓̔g̣̱ͬͭ," they sing merrily, waving one too-segmented appendage imperiously -

  
  
And that's when Kyungsoo jerks awake under the covers, back in their bedroom on the Syren with three warm sleepy bodies curled around him. Oh, sweet mortal plane.  
  
"Stupid tentacle gods again?" Chanyeol murmurs, deep voice raspy and so blessedly  _normal_ . Kyungsoo sighs and squirms in a little closer into the furnace of his body heat, Jongdae inching closer in his wake to close the distance and sandwich the witch in between them, Baekhyun whining wordlessly from the other end and coming in closer to do the same.  
  
"My ancestor is the most voiddamned infuriating Old One in the twelve planes, that's all," Kyungsoo mutters. "It was actually. Reassuring, this time. Good news, the babies are free of taint from the Rift, at least."  
  
Chanyeol hums, low, dream-murky. "That's good. Go back t'sleep, babe."  
  
Kyungsoo nods, feels around with his aura sense a little. The steady hum of electricity and mana twined, coursing through the bones of the ship, not a note out of place. Stars-and-sparks, three distinct signatures, cuddled up comfy in their little blanket nest on the floor. Ghost-light and raspberries, sea salt and tangerines, cinnamon and cinders, three steady heartbeats next to him, surrounding him, warm. Safe.  
  
Jongdae stirs, sighs, presses a soft kiss to Kyungsoo's collarbone, crooning. "Sleeeep, Soo-yah."  
  
The Syren's crystal heart sings through the walls. Starlight spills in through the gaps in between the blinds on the porthole. Kyungsoo settles back down, tucks his head into Jongdae's chest. Curls into the embrace of Baekhyun’s tails, lets Chanyeol wind his arms around him, and drifts back off into dreamless sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> extra facts i couldn't fit in:  
>   
> ☆ the Syren was restored and modified by Jongdae from an old Federation Navy M-364-PTERA frigate, and is a labour of love from head to toe. From the outside, its shape resembles that of a humpback whale.  
> ☆ Yes, Jongdae is in fact, the siren aboard the Syren. Chanyeol and Baekhyun didn't stop heckling him over it for years.  
> ☆ Chanyeol lost his leg at a young age from a rather terrible outbreak of a pathogen that necrotized flesh, eating his leg away. Fortunately, they managed to amputate the limb and save his life. He feels phantom pains sometimes from it.  
> ☆ Baekhyun's the captain because he's the best at Talking To People - Kyungsoo would Much Rather Not, Chanyeol gets anxious, and Jongdae would prefer to just deal with machines instead. Also, age superiority.  
> ☆ Kyungsoo has minor precognitive ability in addition to the rest of his powers, and on occasion, is bestowed with Prophetic Visions. He prefers to ignore most of these entirely because _hell_ if he's going to let his boyfriends walk into that kind of danger on his account.  
>  ☆ I came up with Kyungsoo's Ancestor on the spot as I was writing and they're honestly the best damn character in this fic lmao  
> ☆ The drakelings are referred to with xe/xir pronouns because they don't have gender~~
> 
> come find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/dragonairily?s=09%20) if you wanna hear me scream about chansoo and chinguline
> 
> addition: the mods made [this moodboard](https://twitter.com/exonautfest/status/941432177924829184) for the fic and i am ENAMOURED hhhhhhhhh


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